


Harry Potter and the Alpha-Omega Bond

by Becstar7



Series: The Alpha-Omega Bond [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alpha Draco, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Dom Draco, Dom/sub, Drama, Dubious Consent, First Time, Knotting, M/M, Omega Harry Potter, Spoilers, Sub Harry Potter, but possibly triggering for some readers, not really non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becstar7/pseuds/Becstar7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes into heat unexpectedly. Malfoy stakes his claim. Contains bonding, knotting and Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics (and the shades of dub-con/non-con inherently implied).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> JK Rowling et al. own all characters etc. this story is based on. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> This story is NOT meant to be considered non-con, however there are certainly elements of it, especially in the characters' initial perception of what is happening to them - therefore read with caution (or not at all!) if this is a possible trigger for you. Having said that, though, I hope those of you not scared away enjoy it!

Harry squirmed in his seat. Professor Snape was giving them the details of a DADA practical assignment that would be worth a third of their grade for the year, but it just wasn’t holding his attention like it usually would. DADA was still Harry’s favourite class, despite Snape taking over as professor, and normally this kind of assignment would be right up his alley.

But today he couldn’t concentrate.

He was itchy, all over, but scratching did nothing to relieve the torment. He felt flushed too, almost feverish, and he wondered if he was coming down with something. He’d felt fine this morning; not even a sniffle. But something… _something_ was odd. Off. 

He squirmed again.

“Harry,” Hermione hissed, out of the corner of her mouth. “Pay attention.”

“Sorry,” he whispered back, just a little too loudly. Several students turned to look at him, and he could feel their stares burning into him. Most turned away again almost immediately – but a couple… lingered. _Alphas_ , Harry thought, his face flushing darker, breath catching in his throat. He wanted to shout at them to stop – stop _looking_ at him, stop undressing him with their eyes, but his mouth was dry. He wanted – he wanted –

“Harry,” Hermione said again.

“I know,” he said, clutching at the desk with white-knuckled fingers. “S-Sorry, I –”

Her hand was on his, suddenly, and the skin-to-skin contact made him gasp. He jerked backwards, almost tipping his chair over, and stared in surprise at his hand. It felt like she’d _branded_ him. He looked up to find Hermione staring at him with wide-blown eyes, reaching out towards him again in slow motion, as if she couldn't quite control herself. He scrambled to his feet and backed away, heart suddenly hammering in his chest.

“Hermione?” he heard Ron say.

There was an annoyed voice from the front of the classroom telling him to _‘sit_ down, _Mr Potter, unless you want detention for the next month!’_ , but he couldn’t make sense of the words. There was a roaring in his ears, and – horribly – he could feel himself starting to harden.

_In DADA._ In _class_ , in front of his friends – in front of all his classmates, and oh sweet Merlin, even _Malfoy_ was looking at him now, and he couldn’t look away from those grey eyes, and he was _getting a bloody erection_ –

Panicked, he tried to spin away, only to come face-to-face with Terry Boot. His pupils were blown wide just like Hermione’s, and as Harry stood, dazed, gaze wandering back to Malfoy despite the clear and present danger in front of him, Terry touched a fingertip to Harry’s lips. The breath left his lungs like he’d been sucker-punched, and he gasped, that simple, tiny touch searing him, tearing him open, and still he couldn't look away from Malfoy's burning eyes long enough to –

“Get away from him!” Hermione screeched, and shoved Harry behind her as she attacked.

Harry stumbled backwards, and suddenly there were arms around his waist, hands wandering into definite _no-touching_ areas, lips on his throat, and he’d only just registered that it was Ernie Macmillan – _prefect_ Ernie Macmillan, always so upright and proper and respectable and _straight_ , with his long-standing Beta girlfriend of three years – when someone else tore him away.

There were several infuriated shouts as he was hustled out of the room, and as Snape locked and barred the door behind them, he heard thumps – as if the students (Alphas, he reminded himself; there was no point sugar-coating it) were actually trying to _physically_ batter the door down.

Alarmed, he tried to struggle out of Snape’s grip. “Don’t – please –”

“Stupid boy,” Snape snarled, jerking him closer. “I’m not going to rape you.”

“Wh-what?” Harry’s brain spun, horrified at the implication that was even an _option_. But, then – even more horrifying, he realised he was _still turned on_. There was an strange, uncomfortable wetness slipping down his thighs, and his erection hadn’t flagged at all, despite the fear and confusion of the last few minutes. His face burned in embarrassment, and he tried to pull away again. “Let _go_!”

“I’m taking you to the infirmary,” Snape snapped at him. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop fighting me and come with me _quickly_.”

“Infirmary,” Harry echoed, his body going limp with relief. Snape was practically manhandling him up the corridor, but he felt oddly safe. “What’s happening to me?”

Snape made a noise of disgust. “I don’t know why I continue to be surprised by your blatant and frankly _dangerous_ ignorance, Potter. You are in _heat_ , you stupid boy, and had I not been there to intervene, the Alphas in that room would have torn each other apart to claim you. Much longer, and even the Betas would have been roused by your scent. You almost caused a _heat-frenzy_ , Mr Potter.”

“I don’t – I don’t –” Harry swallowed, trying to understand through the fog in his mind. Something in him instinctively recognised Snape as safe, but the heat wasn’t diminishing. If anything, it felt like it was getting worse by the minute. Like – like he might spontaneously combust if – if – if what? He needed – something. Needed _touch_ , and Harry suddenly _knew_ – knew that Snape was the _last_ person he needed to be touching him – _anyone_ would be better than him, better than the skin-warm hands that did nothing to soothe the itch burning him up from the inside –

“Stop _fighting_ me, Potter!”

“ _Let me_ go!”

Madam Pomfrey started to her feet as Snape shoved Harry through the door to the infirmary, making him stumble and catch his hip on a side table. He yelped in pain. “Professor Snape!” she said, shocked. “What _are_ you –”

“The boy’s an Omega,” Snape interrupted, short and succinct. “He’s in heat. I need your quarantine room, now.”

She gasped, eyes widening as she stared at Harry. Harry stared back at her, beginning to squirm again as the itch grew impossibly worse.

“ _Now_ , Madam Pomfrey!”

“O-of course,” she stuttered, turning and fumbling with the keys on her belt as she hurried in the direction of her office. “This way – quickly now – how long has he been in heat?” Snape forced Harry forward, following in her wake, and as they drew closer, her brisk, matronly steps faltered. She shivered. “Never mind. Less than – less than half an hour, clearly. Oh dear.”

She unlocked a door Harry had never noticed before, her hands trembling slightly. Snape shoved him inside, and for the second time that morning, a door was slammed in Harry’s face. Only this time he was alone, and he was _burning up_.

~*~

He tried the door first. It was locked.

Whimpering, Harry sank to his knees. He was so hard it was starting to _hurt_ , and his trousers were soaked. He put his hand back to feel, tentatively, trying to understand where it was all coming from, and moaned out loud when he accidentally brushed his hole, his arousal ramping up even further until he could hardly _think_. “Oh Merlin, oh Merlin,” he babbled, pressing his forehead to the cool stone floor. It didn’t help. He needed to be _touched_ – to be touched by –

No. _No_. Hermione was his _friend_. Ernie was his friend, too, not to mention _straight_. And Boot – he didn’t even _know_ Terry. Not well enough to want – to –

He pressed a hand against the base of his cock, willing it to go away. It didn’t work. He whimpered again, and raised glazed eyes to take in his surroundings. It was a small room, but there was a large double bed, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be curled up in it.

He couldn’t bring himself to stand, so he had to crawl. But he made it, and he stripped off his robes and his trousers, leaving only his shirt as he slipped between the clean, soft sheets. It was _bliss_ against his over-heated, over-sensitive skin, and he closed his eyes, burrowing his forehead into the cool pillows.

But it didn’t work for long.

He could feel the heat, the lust and desperate arousal rising again, and it was _consuming_. Despite himself, Harry slid a hand down to touch his throbbing erection. A few strokes and he was gone, coming onto the already-damp sheets, biting into the pillow to swallow his shouts.

And even then, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to be _filled_.

It frightened him. He’d never even touched himself like that while masturbating; had never really even _thought_ about it. He was straight. And that meant he was supposed to fantasise about penetrating. Right? Not – not _being_ penetrated.

Except… he never really had. Fantasised about either.

Tears welled up in his eyes. If he’d had time to work this out for himself... if he'd been free to explore and learn about his sexuality like most boys his age, instead of living in fear for his life and worrying every day about how a sixteen-year-old boy was supposed to defeat the most powerful Dark wizard in modern history...

But when he _had_ masturbated, it had always been to generic, faceless people, just – touching, holding. Kissing. Maybe, if by some miracle he’d survived the war... he might have wanted to experiment with more. Explore, learn about his own desires. Maybe even with another person. Another… boy. 

But not _now_. Not _yet_. Not – _forced_ like this, like he might _die_ unless –

He wanted to be held down. He wanted to be pressed into the mattress. He wanted someone to jerk his hips up and _bite_ him, push inside him and fuck him, hard and fast and _none of this made any sense_. “Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with tears. “Please, oh Merlin, please help me, someone –”

“Harry?”

_Hermione_.

He jerked in fright, yanking his fingers out of his arse and scrambling to sit up, pulling the covers in even tighter around himself as he looked around for the source of that voice. No, no, no –

And then his body overruled his mind, and he moaned, more slick wetness drenching the sheets beneath him. He didn’t even really _want_ her – she didn't have the right parts, for one, never mind that she was his _best friend_. Why was his body _doing_ this to him?

“It’s okay!” Hermione said, her eyes wide and pained. “Harry, please, it’s okay!” She was in some kind of – Harry struggled to understand – of viewing chamber? Her hand was pressed up against the transparent wall, reaching out to him, but Harry was relieved to see that her eyes, at least, were completely normal again.

Ron was by her side, and Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall were standing behind them. All staring at him, _watching_ him, with the exception of Professor Snape, who was lurking right at the back with his head turned away.

Harry moaned again, this time in utter, abject misery and embarrassment. How long had they been standing there – long enough to see…? He buried his face in his hands, remembered exactly why his fingers were wet, and flinched back, scrubbing his face on his arm violently. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said.

No one scolded him for his language.

“Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore said, his voice infinitely gentle. “Do you understand what’s happening to you?”

“I’m in heat,” Harry said automatically, echoing Snape’s words, and then shook his head, his breath hitching. “No – sir, I don’t –”

“It’s all right,” Dumbledore soothed him. “You are in shock, and understandably so. I will make this as quick and simple as I possibly can. I know you are in pain. But first, I need to know – and I understand this is a very sensitive subject for a young man of your age, but I need you to answer honestly, Harry. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Good. That’s good.” The words made something in Harry relax, and he sighed a little. “I need to know your sexual orientation,” Dumbledore said. “It’s very important.”

Harry stared at him, tensing up all over again. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, panic rising and clawing at his throat. No. _No_. He wasn’t ready for this. He’d only just figured it out for himself – he couldn’t face the idea of telling his best friends. 

He wasn’t ashamed of being gay. He certainly wasn’t going to beat himself up over it – it was something that was completely out of his control, just like being the Boy Who Lived, or being a Parseltongue, or being a Beta. He’d accepted his dynamic when he turned sixteen; refused to think less of himself for not having a knot, unlike Ron (who had had what amounted to a complete mental breakdown – until he realised Hermione was an Alpha, and then he went oddly reticent about the whole thing). 

But – well, Harry had learned the hard way that not everyone saw things the same way he did.

The Dursleys _hated_ homosexuals – hated them, perhaps, worse than wizards, which was really saying something. When one of Dudley’s friends had ‘come out’ the summer between fourth and fifth year, Vernon had cut off all contact with the family and forbidden them to even mention the boy’s name. Harry hadn’t cared much (Dudley’s friends were bullies and brutes, and he had never cared for any of them), but it had given Dudley a complex, and he’d teased Harry ruthlessly for the rest of the summer about his dreams of his ‘boyfriend’ Cedric.

Of course, the Dursleys were poor examples of Muggles – of _human beings_ , even. But that kind of blind, prejudiced hatred was the same hatred that infected the wizarding world. Purebloods obsessed with bloodlines and breeding, the destructive _hatred_ they had for Muggle-borns and half-bloods… somehow Harry couldn't see homosexuality going down well with that lot, either.

Not that Ron was a snotty pureblood Slytherin git, and Hermione _certainly_ wasn’t the Dursleys. But... prejudice and hatred ran deep, and it wasn't always visible on the surface. 

He couldn't care less what anyone else thought of him. But – he could not _abide_ the thought of being hated by Ron and Hermione.

“Harry,” Dumbledore prompted, a little more sharply. “It is very important that you tell me the truth, and quickly.”

Harry flinched, looking down at his hands, twisting in the bed-sheets. “I. Gay. I think,” he whispered hoarsely, and Dumbledore sighed and asked him patiently to speak up. “ _Gay_ ,” he said, louder, and couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Dumbledore shared a glance with Professor McGonagall. She nodded and slipped out of the room. 

“All right, my boy, you’re doing very well. I know that was hard for you.”

The gentle tone touched that same place inside Harry, relaxing him enough to be able to look up at his friends. Hermione appeared, strangely enough, relieved at his answer, and her hand had found and gripped Ron’s tightly. When he met Ron’s gaze, however, it was bewildered and just a little pitying, and Harry turned away quickly, his face burning.

“I don’t understand,” he said, thickly. “Why am I – is this a curse?”

Snape barked out a bitter laugh from the back of the room. “You could say that.”

Dumbledore made a sharp, quelling gesture, and Snape’s mouth snapped shut. “It is not a curse, Harry. It is a _gift_. There are so few Omegas – fewer born every generation. You are, in fact, one of only five that I have known personally in all my hundred and fifty-one years. And the only one I have heard of coming into heat at all in the last twenty years.”

Harry frowned. “What is that? What’s a – an Omega?”

Madam Pomfrey drew in a sharp breath. There was a loaded silence. The adults in the viewing chamber exchanged significant looks. Hermione’s hand rose to cover her mouth.

Madam Pomfrey spoke first. “It is, very simply put, one of the three gender roles, Harry,” she explained, very gently. “Alpha, Beta, and Omega. The majority of wizarding folk are, as you know, Betas, but –”

“Whoa!” Harry said, panicking. “Wait, wait – _three_? I thought – I thought there were just Alphas and Betas. I’m – I’m a _Beta_. Right?”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said.

“No. But –” Harry shook his head helplessly, looking between his friends, his teachers. They all looked so _serious_. “I don’t – this is a joke, right? I’m a Beta, I don’t have a knot, I’ve _accepted_ that.”

“You are in _heat_ , Potter,” Snape snapped. He was still staring at the back wall, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to actually look at Harry. Oddly enough, though, it wasn’t upsetting. In fact, Harry kind of appreciated it. Everyone else was staring at him hungrily (Hermione and, scarily enough, Madam Pomfrey), or with far too much fascination (Dumbledore), or, perhaps worst of all, with pity (Ron). At least Snape gave him the illusion of a tiny sliver of privacy. “Betas don’t go into heat, you idiot boy. You’re an Omega.”

And just like that, he was back to hating the man. “There’s no such thing,” he snapped right back.

“Actually,” Hermione winced, “there is.”

Harry pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. It was that or scream. “Why,” he said, through gritted teeth, “have I never heard of them, then?”

“Uh,” Ron began hesitantly. “You’ve really never –? I mean, Dean and Seamus, they’re always going on about Omegas like the Alpha jerks they are – whispering fantasies to each other after lights out – you’ve really never heard them – or, I mean, _any_ Alpha – not to mention the _books_ –”

“Books?” Harry echoed, taking his hands away to look at his friend. Ron’s face was beet red.

“Yeah. Uh. Romances, I guess?” Ron coloured. “Not that _I_ – just, Mum’s always reading them –”

“Why in the _hell_ would I be reading _wizarding romances_ , Ron?” Harry yelled. “Aside from the fact that I’m actually _not a girl_ , I live with _Muggles_ all summer, and when I’m _here_ I’m kind of busy with school and homework and Quidditch and – oh yeah, trying to stop _Voldemort_ from KILLING me and taking over the whole fucking _wizarding world_!”

Ron swallowed, hard.

“Yeah. Sorry, mate,” he said uneasily. “I – well, I guess I thought you knew. It’s not as if I was _keeping_ it from you. It’s just – Omegas are _fantasies_ ; no one really expects to _meet_ one.”

“Oh, that’s just – fantastic. Brilliant.” So much for being twisted up about his sexuality, Harry thought; turns out he _should_ have been worrying about his lack of knot all along. “Why am _I_ always the exception?”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “I know this is a shock, Mr Potter, but it’s really not a bad thing. It’s rather wonderful, really.”

Harry glared at her. “It doesn’t _feel_ wonderful,” he said rebelliously. “I’m – I ache, and –” He shifted uncomfortably, closing his eyes in despair at the squelching noise. “Am I _supposed_ to be –”

“It’s all part of your heat, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently. “There are hormones flooding your body right now, making you –”

“Really, _really_ horny?” Harry said tightly, and took a small satisfaction in the way that suddenly none of them could meet his eyes.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Ah. Precisely. It is also what makes you so – desirable, Harry, to Alphas in particular. In fact, the only thing protecting you from every Alpha in this school right now – even those you are not attracted to – are the magical protections on this quarantine room.”

“You mean –” Harry felt his whole body jerk in horror. “Even _you_ –”

“I hope I have more control over myself than to attack a student, my boy,” Dumbledore said gravely. “However, as your heat progresses, I could not vouch for all of my professors – and certainly not your fellow students, who are far more vulnerable to your scent.”

“My scent?” Harry curled into himself miserably. He was rapidly losing control of himself – the sudden shock of an audience had killed some of his initial, rampant arousal, but it was creeping over him again now, insidious and burning, lighting his skin on fire.

“The scent of an Omega in heat, Harry, as you are.” Dumbledore seemed to sense he was losing him. “We can discuss the particulars when you are yourself again. For now, I need you to understand that this is completely normal – a gift the Wild Magic gave us, long ago, to allow same-sex pairings to procreate.”

“S-same-sex?” Harry echoed, flushing.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said gently. “It is not unheard of for an Omega to be attracted to the opposite sex, but it is rare. What few Omegas there are generally bond with someone of their own gender. But Harry, you must listen to me. Omegas are highly sought after and prized, and there are unfortunately very few laws to protect you. Once an Alpha has claimed you, no one can break that claim – not you, not I, not the Ministry. You will literally and _legally_ belong to that person for the rest of your life.”

Harry closed his eyes. 

He wanted to be disgusted. Revolted. He knew that, even a mere hour ago, the thought of being _owned_ would have sickened him to his stomach. Now, all he could feel was the emptiness inside him, the slickness covering his thighs, the burning desire to be filled, to be _forced_ into submission. To be _bitten_. “I need –”

“I know,” Dumbledore said. He sounded strangely wistful. “I know you do, my boy. But you must understand, in the state you are in, you cannot give _true_ consent to being claimed. You might think you want to, in the heat of the moment – excuse the pun – but you are _sixteen_ , Harry. So… I can offer you a choice. You have already formed a preliminary bond with someone. Your mate.” 

Harry straightened, his eyes flying open, fear and – something else, something darker and hotter and _right_ , flushing through his veins. “What?”

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “It is one of the gifts of Omegas. Your body is physiologically designed to be able to go into heat at the age of sixteen, but you will not – not until you have formed a preliminary bond with someone. There have been cases of Omegas living as Betas for decades, only discovering their true nature much later in life when they finally form that bond their body has been waiting for.”

Harry swallowed. “So – so I’m in heat because I've bonded to someone?”

“It would seem so,” Dumbledore agreed. “But Harry, an Alpha-Omega bond is not mutual. Your mate will _want_ you, while you are in heat, will want to claim you and impregnate you, but when it is over, there is no guarantee of faithfulness. The law does not recognise an Alpha-Omega Bond to be marriage, and so your mate may marry outside your bond. _You_ will be forced to remain faithful, for the rest of your life, but your mate may do as he pleases.” His blue eyes were gentle, infinitely sad. “Do you understand, my dear boy?”

Harry felt cold. 

It was his worst nightmare; belonging to someone who didn’t love him. He’d had fifteen years of it with the Dursleys, and the idea of _more_ , of the rest of his _life_ – Oh dear Merlin, no. _No_.

He could feel his chin beginning to tremble, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes again, trying to hold back the tears. He felt _raw_ , naked and exposed. He wanted them to stop _looking_ at him.

“But – but, sir, that’s not _fair_ ,” Hermione said, her voice strained. “That’s _slavery_ , they can’t _do_ that. I thought Omegas were precious, _cared for_! But if he can’t say no, and his mate doesn’t even have to be _faithful_? It’s _wrong_. Sir, it’s wrong, you have to –”

“It’s not wrong if it’s his mate,” Ron interrupted, his tone flat. 

Harry glanced up in time to see Hermione turn on their best friend, her best scowl in place, mouth opening in outrage. 

“It’s _not_ wrong,” Ron told her, stubbornly, and Harry was reluctantly impressed because every instinct his friend had, had to be screaming at him to back down. Which meant Ron thought this was important; important enough to risk _her_ displeasure. 

“If any other Alpha forced a claim on him, then yeah, Professor Dumbledore’s right, it would be – bad. But not his mate. It won’t be a _mutual_ bond, by law, but don’t you get it?” He looked at Harry suddenly. “You’re an _Omega_ , mate. Alphas go _nuts_ over you. Bonkers. Didn’t you see them in DADA? And that was just the _beginning_ of your heat. It’s supposed to be –” he looked embarrassed, but there was a definite hint of jealousy in his voice, “the best sex _ever_. Not to mention your ability to carry children. For a gay pureblood, that’s like – the Holy _Grail_. They’ll be lining up to try for a claim. And your mate – the one your body’s formed a pre-bond with – you think that’s just chance? There’s a _reason_ it triggers your heat. You’re _compatible_ with him, in every way. He might not be forced to be faithful, or to love you, but he’ll _want_ to.”

Snape flinched, hard, and turned further away. Harry looked between them all, bewildered. “But – I don’t –”

“He’s right, Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said gently. “Professor Dumbledore was simply outlining the worst case scenario. And it is a risk, a _great_ risk, considering the legal implications, but – if I were lucky enough to bond with an Omega, I would not give him, or her, up for the _world_. I would cherish, love and protect them with _everything_ in me. I have no doubt your mate will feel the same.”

“Then why –?” Harry said, looking at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed. “Because you are very young, Harry, and an Omega’s first heat is the most difficult. The unexpected nature of it, the inability to give true consent – has led to much abuse, over the years. As you yourself experienced today, Omegas are incredibly desirable to Alphas; even Betas derive a great deal of sexual satisfaction from dominating an Omega, which just goes to show how very unique and special you are, Harry. And how _very_ open and vulnerable to abuse. For a long time, Omegas were favoured pets of the ruling pureblood families, and a true bond was very rarely consummated. Other, richer, or more powerful Alphas would – pay, to be the first claim.”

“So,” Harry said slowly, “so what if… I don’t _want_ to bond?”

Dumbledore looked relieved. “Then you don’t have to – not during this heat. However, you _do_ need an Alpha. Your heat will last for several days, and your need will only grow stronger.” Harry nodded; he could feel the truth of that down to his bones. “I can offer you only this: Professor McGonagall is in the process of inviting any male Alphas who are interested and of age to congregate in the infirmary outside. One of them may be – will very _likely_ be – your mate. You will know as soon as you touch him. Should you choose _not_ to allow your bond with him to be consummated during this heat, you may choose any of the others to join you for the duration, and I will place spells upon them restricting their ability to bite you. Madam Pomfrey will of course provide you with contraceptive potions. It will be frustrating, but at least you will still be free at the end of your heat. Free to choose a bond-mate – your true mate, or otherwise – _consensually_ and in your right mind.”

“I don’t –” Harry’s stomach sank. His skin was _itching_ with the desire to be bitten, hard and painful, teeth digging into him, _forcing_ him to submit. “What do you mean, bite?”

“It is how an Alpha places their claim,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “Your true mate, of course, would consummate your bond by doing so. However, if it was any other Alpha, they would destroy your preliminary bond. Subsequent bites would form the beginning of their _own_ bond with you; a far more difficult process, but still a significant risk. We will not allow that to happen, I promise.”

Harry stared at her, bewildered. A tiny kernel of hope was blossoming in his chest, driving away some of the haze of terror and confusion and lust. “But – no, but, that’s _good_ , right? There’s a _way out_ of this. I could destroy the bond – let someone else bite me, just once, and then I’d be free, right? I don’t have to let _anyone_ claim me –”

The lines on Dumbledore’s face deepened, and he looked very sad. “My boy – I’m truly very sorry, but no. The law gives you a mere three heats to mate before the Ministry is within its rights to force you to choose a claim. An old law, of course, created by the ruling Alphas of the time to further their control over the precious commodity Omegas were. But the Ministry justifies its continued enforcement – supposedly for your protection, and the good of the community, to prevent heat-frenzies.”

Hermione made a strangled noise. Harry just dropped his head, resigned.

“I know it doesn't sound _good_ , mate, but it doesn’t have to be bad,” Ron said. His voice was very, very earnest; trying in his own way, Harry thought, to comfort him. “I _swear_ – you’re like a _sex god_ now. You’ll have everything you want, everything you need. _Everyone_ will want you, but you’ll be safe, protected and cared for by your Alpha –”

“And what about my _freedom_?” Harry said flatly, interrupting the flow of words. He didn’t look up. “Will I have that?”

Hermione gave a low, broken sob. “This isn’t _fair_ ,” she insisted. “There must be _something_ – a loophole in the law we can exploit. What if – what if his true mate _died_ – would he still be forced to –”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said gently, and Snape made a muffled noise and whirled out of the room, slamming the door. Everyone stared at it for a moment.

It was just all too much, Harry thought. 

“I don’t understand,” he said. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on the conversation; he felt restless, unbalanced, his mind stuffed full of cotton wool. This was his _life_ hanging in the balance, but in a few minutes he knew he wouldn’t be able to care at all, and that terrified him. “Please – _please_ – tell me what to – I don’t – I _can’t_ – I don’t know what to _do_ –”

“Harry,” Hermione said quietly, firmly. His eyes snapped to hers, and he swallowed down the panic and the tears spilling down his cheeks. Her voice was calm and soothing, and he could feel himself beginning to breathe again. 

“That’s right,” she said, very gently. “We’re sorry, Harry. You’re right. This isn’t the time for this discussion. Right now you have to make a very simple choice, and that’s all. Either you spend this heat with another Alpha and come out free and able to make a decision clear-headed and consenting, or you can take a risk on your mate. I assume, if you decide to mate, that you can still take the contraceptives –?” Madam Pomfrey nodded. Hermione frowned a little, turning to Dumbledore. “Actually – is there any reason you couldn’t put the spells on his true mate? Then they could spend this heat together without consummating the bond immediately –”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No. Even a preliminary Alpha-Omega bond is very powerful. It would prevent such interference.”

Harry closed his eyes in despair. He was aching; every cell in his body wanted to be touched and – yes, _claimed_ , and frankly he didn’t give a damn who it was anymore. An Alpha. _Any_ Alpha, even one of the female variety would do right now, and he supposed that just proved Dumbledore’s point. But he was past caring. 

“I need them to touch me,” he said. “Please. I’ll – I’ll decide then.”

Dumbledore nodded, and then he was spinning into action, barking orders. “Poppy – if you would be so kind as to fetch your potions, and send Severus back in – I will need him to take the potions in to Mr Potter, and to set up the wards. Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, I am afraid I must ask you to go back to your dormitory. I will make sure you are kept informed, of course, but this will be difficult enough for Mr Potter –”

Hermione nodded, smiled at Harry in an encouraging (if rather watery) way, and led Ron out of the room. Harry watched them go, and then curled up into a ball and let the tears come.

~*~

By the time Snape had set up the wards, and Harry had finished off the three different, equally vile potions, he was desperate.

His trousers were damp and uncomfortably sticky when he pulled them back on, and he squirmed, itchy and turned on in equal measure.

Professor McGonagall escorted the first student in. It was Terry Boot, and Harry stared at him, remembering that brief, burning touch to his lips. Terry’s pupils blew wide as soon as he stepped through the door, and he moaned softly. Professor McGonagall closed it behind him hastily, a rather wild look in her eyes, and Harry swallowed. Apparently he was affecting the Betas now, too.

“You’re so beautiful,” Terry whispered. “I’ll make it so good, sweetheart –”

Harry steeled himself and stepped up to the wards, putting his hand through the small gap. Terry had his mouth on him instantly, and it sent Harry to his knees, gasping, his every nerve alight. “Ah – Merlin, oh – _please_ –”

Terry’s eyes were completely black, and he sucked Harry’s fingers into his mouth, the burning heat of it almost painful. Harry whimpered, trying to pull away. “No – no, I –”

Terry lifted his head, and Harry was caught, ensnared in his gaze. _Alpha_ , his veins sang, his whole body shivering in need. _Why not?_ he thought desperately. He should just – just _submit_. It would be good. He _needed_ – but, no. No, it was wrong. It was _wrong_ , and he used his last scrap of sanity to force himself to his feet again and trip the wards. Snape and Professor McGonagall hurried in immediately, and Snape wasn’t at all gentle as he pulled Terry off and shoved him off on McGonagall.

“Potter,” he said, and Harry opened his eyes. He had tipped forward to rest his forehead against the wards, and he was surprised to find Snape crouching on the other side, looking up at him. “Idiot boy,” he said, with a good deal more fondness than Harry thought entirely appropriate for a professor who hated his guts. “The slip-through in the wards is for _them_. Not you. You need every advantage you can get, even if – even if it will never be really _fair_.”

“You’re an Omega, too,” Harry said, and then blinked in surprise.

Snape pinched his nose. “Yes, Potter,” he said, in a tone of long-suffering. “I am an Omega too.”

“Who’s your – I mean, your true mate – did you –?”

Snape stood abruptly. “No. And it’s none of your business.”

Harry felt sick. “But – but the law. And – your heats – how do you –?”

“I use a suppressant.” Snape’s voice was flat, brooking no further conversation, and he moved to the door. Harry threw himself against the wards, shoving his hand through the gap in desperation. A way out. There was a _way out_ –

“Professor! Wait – professor, wait! _Please_ – I don’t want to feel like this – I don’t want my first time to be _this_ –”

Snape sighed, his head falling forward. It looked painfully like defeat. “I wish I could help you, Potter. You’ve barely scratched the surface of what it means to be an Omega in this world, and I would do – _anything_ to spare you that suffering. But my suppressant only works _before_ the heat. It cannot stop what has already begun.”

Harry sobbed a little.

“Pull your hand back in,” Snape said, gently. He put a hand on the doorknob, and then paused. “I cannot tell you what to do, but I would ask that you bear in mind that Dumbledore and I both had traumatic experiences, and as such, any advice we give you is biased. We are not the norm – as much as _any_ Alpha-Omega Bond can be considered 'normal'. You should know that – while I had my _true_ Alpha, while we were together – it was the only time in this life I have ever been _truly_ happy.”

“He died?” Harry said, his throat closing.

“She.”

“Oh.”

“Pull your hand back in, Potter. And stand firm. Not every Omega's story must inevitably end in tragedy.”

~*~

He made the other boys put their hands through the gap in the wards after that, and Snape was right, it wasn’t quite so difficult to say no when the discomfort of _wrong, this is so wrong_ deep in his gut overruled the need. He was overwhelmingly grateful for that. Without the protections the professors had put in place, it would have been practically impossible to listen to the only guide he had in this fucked up 'heat'.

But it was getting harder and harder to resist the desperate need to submit, now, even when every inch of him cried out against it. He just wanted – wanted so _badly_ to drop to his knees and beg for his Alpha’s cock.

_Any_ Alpha's cock. 

Strangely enough, it was the thought of Snape that kept him strong. Kept him sane through the rush of desire and lust burning him up from the inside. His trousers were soaked, clinging to him in a way that Harry found more than a little distracting. He was actually considering removing them entirely – being naked couldn’t make the Alphas want him more; each boy was progressively more frantic in their attempts to claim him.

It made him uncomfortable and upset, even as his trousers dripped onto the floor and he fought the urge to beg for their unwanted attention. 

And then Malfoy walked through the door.

“No!” Harry said immediately, reaching to trip the wards.

“Stop,” Malfoy said, his voice calm even though his pupils had dilated as soon as he'd entered the room. Harry froze, hand outstretched, his body vibrating. “I saw you looking at me in DADA, Potter. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. You want me.”

Harry’s mouth opened in stunned, outraged disbelief. “I – I do _not_ –”

“Take down the wards, Potter.”

“I won’t,” Harry said. “I _hate_ you.”

“I know.” Malfoy’s lips twisted. Harry’s eyes fixed on them involuntarily, and he licked his own, mouth suddenly dry. “You’ve _always_ hated me, Potter, right from the start. Perhaps that’s why this was inevitable, you bonding to me. I am the one person you can trust never to fawn over you, never worship the ground you walk on. Always tell you the truth.”

“The – the truth?” Harry said, haltingly.

“That I’m going to claim you. Bite you into submission, and then fuck you until you can’t stand. And then knot you, and pump my seed so far into you you’ll be carrying my child by morning.”

“You’re _sixteen_ , Malfoy,” Harry said, annoyed. More annoyed that he could feel his cock pulsing at the words, smooth and enticing, than at the idea Malfoy might actually _believe_ what he was saying. “You don’t want a _kid_.”

Malfoy paused; shook his head. His eyes cleared slightly, and he frowned. “You’re right. I’m surprised any of the others could even _think_ in here, much less walk out on their own two feet. Your scent is – _overpowering_. You really want it, don’t you?" His pupils dilated again, and the look he gave Harry then was one of pure _hunger_. "You’d let me get you up the duff, if it was what I wanted. Wouldn’t you? Tell me.”

Harry gritted his teeth, refusing to reply. Not because he didn’t want to give the git the satisfaction, but because he was afraid Malfoy was actually right, and he wouldn’t be able to resist saying so.

But Malfoy’s mouth stretched into a smug smile that told Harry he knew, anyway. “Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about that. I’ll make sure you have a well-stocked supply of contraceptive potions until we decide it’s time to conceive.” He looked thoughtful. “Preferably not for at least a decade or two, but I know that as an Omega you may feel your biological clock ticking earlier than that. I’m prepared to compromise.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not a _girl_ , you fucking bastard.”

“No, you’re an _Omega_ ,” Malfoy said slowly, as if he was stupid. “And I don’t appreciate your tone _or_ your language, Potter. You will call me Draco.”

“What? No!”

“You _will_ call me Draco,” Malfoy said, stepping closer. His voice was oddly compelling, and Harry couldn't look away from his eyes, the stormy grey reaching into him and _hooking_ him, holding him in place. He tensed. “And you _will_ put your hand through the wards so I can touch you.”

Harry found himself obeying without conscious thought. Malfoy smiled, and took his hand in his own. The moment they touched, Harry sucked in a harsh breath, his eyes fluttering closed as every hair on his body stood on end. He shivered helplessly, and felt the hand around his tremble in response. His entire body was _thrumming_ , the desire to submit pounding through him in wave after wave after wave. And it felt right. For the first time since his heat began, the touch felt _right_.

“Tell them to take down the wards, Potter.”

He didn’t even hesitate. He was lost; completely and utterly. He pressed the two keys embedded in the wards that would summon the professors. It only took a moment; Dumbledore hurried in through the door, Snape and McGonagall close on his heels. Dumbledore looked between Harry and Malfoy, his expression watchful, wary.

“Has he hurt you, Potter?” McGonagall demanded, bristling.

Harry blinked at her. “He’s my Alpha.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Which means he no longer has the faculty to understand the difference between consensual sex and rape.” 

Harry met the professor’s bright blue eyes, surprised to see the deep, still sadness there. “I’m okay, sir,” he said impulsively. “I feel better already, and we haven’t even –” He blushed, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "I think he's my mate."

Malfoy threaded their fingers together and squeezed gently. “You _are_ mine, Harry,” he said calmly. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, his voice achingly sad, “My dear, dear boy. I’m so very sorry."

"Sorry?" Harry echoed, confused, and Malfoy stiffened. “Why are you sorry?” And then he remembered that Dumbledore had tried to convince him not to bond with his true mate, and he almost laughed. There was no way anyone could feel _this_ and refuse their Alpha. The very idea was – ridiculous. _Ludicrous_. 

And the idea of letting anyone else touch him during this heat was even _more_ ludicrous.

He wondered what had happened to Dumbledore, that he could believe that it was even _possible_ to want someone other than his true mate. But then – Dumbledore was an Alpha. He would never be able to understand the awful, churning sickness that had filled Harry's stomach every time an Alpha not his own touched him. Letting one of them take him – that would have been _true_ rape. Even the _thought_ of it made cold sweat break out all over his body, and as he met Snape's eyes, he knew he'd made the right decision. 

“It’s good, sir,” he tried to explain. “Ron was right. It’s good. It's _right_. He’s my Alpha.”

“No,” Dumbledore said. “I'm sorry, Harry, but you know the delicate position we are in. The war approaching. If you bond with Mr Malfoy, I fear – you will not be safe. The _wizarding world_ will not be safe. I cannot allow you to do this.”

Harry panicked. “No. _No_ ,” he said. Malfoy tried to hold onto his hand, but it was shaking too badly, terror clogging his throat and stinging his eyes. He drew his hand back inside the wards, pressing it to the invisible barrier futilely. Malfoy snarled and shoved his own hand through the gap, grabbing hold of Harry’s shirt and pulling him violently up against the wards. Harry trembled helplessly as Malfoy scrabbled under his shirt, splaying his hand possessively over Harry's bare stomach.

“He’s _mine_ ,” Malfoy said, staring at Dumbledore challengingly, even as his hand began inching downwards, sliding beneath the waistband of Harry’s trousers.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, widening his stance automatically, opening himself up for his Alpha to touch.

“ _No_ ,” Dumbledore said firmly, and flicked his wand. Malfoy was torn away from him, flying to slam up against the wall near the door, pinned there like a butterfly to the drawing board.

The loss of contact with his mate was like a physical blow. 

“ _No_!” Harry screamed, and he could hear Malfoy shouting his name in a crazed fury. He shoved his hand through the gap, reaching involuntarily for his mate even as he looked desperately to Dumbledore, pleading for mercy. “Sir, _please_ , he’s mine – he’s my mate – I chose – you _told_ me to choose and I did, I chose _him_ , you can’t take him away from me, you _can’t_ , I’ll die, I’ll _die_ , professor, can’t you see that – _please_ – please don't give me to anyone else –”

He could feel the tears streaming down his face, but Dumbledore was implacable. 

“I’m truly sorry, my boy,” he said firmly, “but if Mr Malfoy is your mate, and you still want him after the war, there will be time, then, for you to consummate your bond. But for now, there are two dozen other nice young men out there who would be more than happy to assist you through this heat –”

“ _NO_!” Harry screamed, and the wards shattered. Dumbledore and McGonagall were slammed back several paces as Harry’s scent burst out from behind the wards. Their faces paled, and their nostrils flared. There was a sudden, dawning hunger in their eyes that drowned out reason and sanity and everything else but _lust_ , and Harry sucked in a terrified breath. But then Snape was in front of him, wand out and trained on them, steady and unrelenting, and they moved backwards reluctantly.

Harry watched from the safety of Malfoy’s arms as the door shut and locked behind the three adults.

Malfoy was growling into Harry’s throat. It sent shivers of pleasure down his spine, and he pushed closer, rubbing his tears away on Malfoy’s robes. They smelled like Alpha, like _his_ Alpha, and he moaned quietly. “ _Please_.”

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He ripped Harry’s shirt off, baring him to the cool air. His nipples pebbled, and Malfoy took one in his mouth, laving it. Harry shouted, trying to twist away and push into it at the same time, the heat almost unbearably good. Malfoy slung an arm around his shoulders and held him close with a hand on the small of his back as he kicked Harry’s feet out from under him and guided him gently to the ground. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said, and bit down savagely around his nipple.

Harry screamed again, thrashing against him, his arse clenching and releasing rhythmically as he struggled to find purchase, friction, _anything_ to soothe the desperate, burning itch. “Please, please, _please_ –”

“I know what you need,” Malfoy said, and fitted his teeth around Harry’s pulse point. The bite was almost tender, this time, but hard enough to break the skin, and Harry felt himself go limp in his Alpha’s arms. Suddenly all he could think about, all he _wanted_ , was his Alpha's pleasure. To be used as a vessel for his Alpha's needs, his desires. Nothing else mattered.

“Good,” Malfoy praised him. “Such a _good_ boy. Turn over for me, Harry.”

Harry hummed with pleasure at the words, turning obediently. It was more difficult than it should have been, but that was mostly because Malfoy refused to let go of him, pressing kisses and tender bites over every piece of skin he could reach: chest, collarbones, underarms, shoulders. “You taste so good,” Malfoy moaned, desperate now. He scrabbled at Harry’s trousers, pulling them down to his knees before giving up, plunging three fingers into Harry’s wet, slick hole without any warning or preparation.

Harry gasped in pain, trying to squirm away, trapped by the trousers caught around his knees.

“No, no,” Malfoy said, reaching up and biting down again over Harry’s carotid. Harry relaxed in spite of the pain, feeling Malfoy’s fingers slide in and out, twisting, scissoring, stretching him out. “That’s right, baby. You can take it. You were _made_ for this. See how wet you are; you're practically _gushing_ for me, begging me to fill you.” 

And he was right. It felt good – oh Merlin _so good_ – long, slender fingers touching and probing inside him, wet and hot and relieving some of that tormenting itch. But it wasn’t enough; never _enough_. “Please,” Harry begged. “I need –”

“You need my cock,” Malfoy said. Any other time, any other situation, and that posh pureblood voice would have been oozing smug satisfaction. But it seemed he couldn’t deny nature any more than Harry could; his words were unsteady, _needy_. “You need my knot. Don’t you, Potter? Say it.”

Harry moaned, pushing his arse back onto Malfoy’s fingers. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, please, please –”

Malfoy spread his cheeks, and Harry tried to part his legs, only to curse when he couldn’t move them more than a fraction of an inch. Damned _trousers_. He whined, squirming.

“Shh,” Malfoy said, fumbling for his wand and casting a spell that banished the rest of their clothing. Harry sighed and tilted his hips up in relief, but Malfoy bracketed him in with his thighs, lying down on top of him and sliding his cock into Harry like he owned him. Like he _belonged_ there, two puzzle pieces fit perfectly together, and Harry bit down on his fist as he came, eyes shut tightly against the overwhelming _pleasure_ of it. Held down, his Alpha’s body on him, _in_ him, pressing him down, surrounding and filling him utterly. 

“Yes,” he said, brokenly. “Yes, please, _fuck me_ –” It was, he was sure, the dirtiest thing that had ever come out of his mouth, but he was far too gone to care. And it made Malfoy hiss and pull his hips back, slamming in again, so deep that Harry cried out, scrabbling at the floor with his fingers.

“That’s it,” Malfoy whispered, the words brushing Harry’s ear as he eased into a couple of gentle thrusts. “That’s it, baby, such a good boy for me –”

“Malfoy, Malfoy –” Harry said, desperately, trying to push back, to force his Alpha into a rhythm.

Malfoy bit his shoulder punishingly. “Draco, I said. You’re _mine_ now. You _will_ obey me.”

“Please,” Harry moaned. “Draco, please –”

Malfoy slammed into him, and then again and again, fucking him now, hard and desperate. “Come for me,” he gasped, into Harry’s shoulder. “I want you to come again. I want to feel you coming on my cock, a second time, without a single touch.”

“I can’t –”

“You _will_ ,” Draco said, and it was as if the command had a direct link to Harry’s body, jerking his cock to attention, drawing him tight as a bowstring as he fought off his second orgasm in less than ten minutes. It was going to hurt – there was no way it wouldn’t.

“Oh Merlin, Draco, please, _please_ , I’m begging you –”

“You’re going to _come_ ,” Draco said, panting.

And he did.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely reviews!

He lay enjoying the afterglow for a couple of minutes, wriggling a little just to feel Draco inside him, and then moaning in loss as he slid out. Draco rolled off him, stretching lazily. “Don’t worry, Potter,” he said, reaching out to pet Harry’s hair idly. “I haven’t knotted you yet. I’ll be able to fuck you again in a minute.”

Harry shivered, curling up on his side. “What does that mean, exactly? How does – how does the knotting actually – work?”

Draco closed his eyes and smiled slowly. “Oh, you _are_ delicious.”

Harry scowled and shoved up, intending to go and sulk on the far more comfortable bed. Instead, Draco caught his hips and pulled him back down, nosing under Harry’s hair to the claim mark and biting down again. “ _Mine_ ,” he growled.

“Yes,” Harry said, letting Draco push his leg up and plunge back into his soaking wet arse, snapping his hips forward in just the right position to brush something inside Harry that made him scream. 

“ _Draco_ ,” he cried, helpless, insensate, and what he meant was _Alpha_.

Draco growled in approval. He wasn't gentle, biting Harry's neck and sucking desperately, pinching and rolling Harry's nipples between his long, sharp fingers, grasping Harry's cock and stroking roughly as he fucked him. “From now on,” he said, catching Harry's ear between his teeth, “you're not to come until I say you can. Understand?”

Harry moaned. “ _Please_.”

“I like you begging," Draco told him breathlessly, thrusting in hard and then just _staying there_ , grinding his hips in a circle that tormented that spot inside Harry again and again. "Do you like that?" he asked, as Harry whimpered and tried to squirm away. “Tell me.”

“Oh Merlin,” Harry cried. “ _Please_ , Draco. Fuck me. Please.”

“Do you want my knot?” Draco pulled almost the whole way out, and teased at Harry’s hole until he was a sobbing, desperate mess of tears and wet need and aching, dripping cock. “Do you want my knot, Harry? I’ll let you come if you take it.”

He shoved back in, all the way, plastering himself right up against Harry’s back, biting at his shoulder, and for just a moment, just that one brief, shining moment with Malfoy’s teeth digging into his skin and Malfoy’s thick cock buried deep inside his arse, Harry could _think_ again. “You’re – my Alpha,” he said, struggling to get his breathing under control, scrubbing away the tears. “Can’t you just – force me to submit? You don’t need to ask.”

Malfoy snarled at him, biting down hard enough into Harry’s shoulder that he yelped in pain. “Shut up,” Draco told him. “You’re _mine_. I don’t need to _force_ you to take my knot. I will _never_ force you. Do you understand?”

And, Merlin, Harry’s whole body _flooded_ with arousal at that. Draco – his _Alpha_ – wanted him. Wanted to own and protect him. Wanted him _willing_. “I understand,” he said, pushing back desperately, forgetting control, forgetting everything but _need_. “I understand, Draco.” 

Draco made a small sound of satisfaction and took hold of his hips, fingers digging in, leaving bruises as he thrust in again, and again, easy and smooth in the wet slick Harry’s body was pumping out. He put his teeth to the back of Harry’s neck; just resting there, the gentle pressure a reminder. Of ownership. _Alpha. Mine._

“Beg for my knot.”

There was a dull throb of fear coiling tight in Harry’s chest at the idea of being knotted, but more than that, more than anything, he wanted to please his Alpha. And there was an itch below his skin, growing worse the longer Draco fucked him. It was too easy, too sweetly slick – the stretch had sated him the first time, but now he wanted to be _filled_ , held down and _bred_. “Please,” he said. “Please. I need it. I need your knot. Please, Draco. Take me.”

“Yes,” Draco hissed, and shoved in again, grinding deep. Harry flailed his arm backwards, grabbing hold of Draco’s hip to try to anchor himself. But it was no good. Draco was pounding into him now, hard and fast, sending jolts of pleasure through him at every slam into his prostate, shooting up his spine, blurring his eyesight, drawing his balls tight. And he could feel the stretch as his Alpha’s knot slowly started to expand, pushing against his rim, in and out, more painful with every thrust. 

He began to cry out, to try to pull away, but Draco held him still effortlessly.

“I can’t,” Harry sobbed, when the knot was so big Draco was pushing at him in vain, unable to get back in without tearing him. “Please.”

“Shh,” Draco soothed him, sliding his hands up Harry’s chest and cupping his jaw, turning his head towards him. “You can. You _will_ ,” he said, and fitted his teeth gently around Harry’s pulse point. It was hot and throbbing already, bruised deep, and all Draco had to do was press lightly and Harry was relaxing into him, limp. 

“Good boy,” Draco said, and Harry flushed in pleasure. “Such a good boy, taking all of me –” He pushed in, and it hurt, but Harry was riding high, the pleasure almost too much to bear. The pain of the stretch was _nothing_ compared to the rush of knowing that it was _his_ Alpha’s knot buried deep inside him, pushing in and then swelling slightly more, stretching the walls of his passage tight. And then pulling back, just a little, just enough to make sure Harry knew: he was tied. Knotted. There was no escape. He had no choice but to lie there under his Alpha and feel him pump his cum deep inside him, spurt after spurt after spurt, unending.

 _Breeding_ him. If he hadn’t taken the contraceptives, he almost certainly would have ended up pregnant. The thought should have scared the crap out of him, should have jolted him out of the haze of lust and arousal, but it sent him higher instead, and he suddenly, bitterly regretted letting Snape give him those potions.

“I want you to give me a child,” he said. Pleaded.

Draco grinned fiercely. “I know you do.”

Harry squirmed, twisting to reach his Alpha’s mouth. He could feel the knot inside him, holding him in place, but he was flexible. If Draco helped, just a little – “Kiss me,” he said desperately, begging. “ _Please_ , Draco. Kiss me.”

Draco paused – just a moment of hesitation, but it almost broke Harry’s heart. He felt cold suddenly, his insides shriveling up in misery as his erection wilted. Apparently fucking was okay, but _kissing_ was too intimate. 

It was like being doused in freezing cold water; like having a bandage ripped off an open wound. Draco was his _mate_ , the one person in the world who should love him absolutely and unconditionally, and he wouldn’t even _kiss_ him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, tears pricking his eyes. “I’m sorry, Draco, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” Draco said, and Harry flinched, curling in on himself. “No,” Draco said again, “stop it, Harry. You’re mine. _Mine_. Forever. I’ve claimed you, and I _cherish_ what’s mine. I will never hang you out to dry, never leave you wanting. You can ask _anything_ of me, and if it’s in my power, I _will give it to you_. Understand? Now come here.”

Harry let Draco manhandle him, twisting around to press their lips together, messy and not quite fitting together, but Draco licked into his mouth, running his tongue along the seam of Harry’s lips, and Harry melted, opening his mouth wide to welcome him in, something tense and painful easing inside him. He cried, a little, in relief, and Draco just kissed away the tears and came right back to his mouth, salty and wet and _hot_ , twisting him up again in desperate need.

They kissed for a long time, until Harry was cramping up, until his lips were chapped and sore, and all that time, Draco stayed knotted in him. Finally, the knot began to deflate, and Draco pulled out. Harry groaned as it dragged at his stretched insides.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Draco sighed, collapsing onto his back. He kept one hand on Harry, stroking possessively down his side and over his arse, cupping and squeezing and then slipping in between, fingering his hole. 

Harry moaned, pushing back, and Draco slid three fingers into him obligingly. He was sore and stretched, and horribly, gapingly _empty_ , and being filled again was – incredible. He felt like he’d been hard for _hours_ , and as Draco pulled him closer and stroked him – just once, whispering permission to let go in his ear, he came with a scream, overloaded, vision whiting out with the pleasure of it.

Afterwards, he turned over and curled into his Alpha, sliding a hopeful hand down to touch Draco’s cock.

Draco chuckled tiredly, pushing his hand away. “Soon,” he promised. “I want you to sleep now.”

Harry lifted his head to contemplate the bed, on the other side of the room. Too far away. He sighed, tucking his head back into Draco’s shoulder, resigning himself to a nap on the cold floor. “Yeah.”

“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Draco said, fond. “We’re wizards, and we’ve just formed one of the most powerful, unpredictable bonds in existence. There’s no need for us to sleep here.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were in the bed, clean and dry, covers warm around their shoulders.

Harry sighed in contentment, and fell asleep.

~*~

Draco fucked him for three days straight, knotting him again and again – on his back on the bed; on his hands and knees on the floor; facing the wall, fingers scrabbling for purchase; and on one, entirely unforgettable occasion, with his back pressed up against the wall and legs wrapped around Draco’s hips, pounded mercilessly as Draco’s muscles flexed and bunched under pale, perfect skin.

When they were both so tired they couldn't keep their eyes open, they slept, tangled up in each other. Harry always woke to Draco pushing inside him, pressing his hands down, holding him in place to be taken and bred like the bitch in heat Draco called him, the words whispered filthy hot in his ear.

Even when they were sore and aching, even when Draco hissed every time he entered Harry, even when Harry cried out and twisted away every time he felt Draco's hand on his cock, knot pushing into him – even then, they didn't stop. “It’s your scent,” Draco told him, as they lay on the bed, Draco's weight pressing him into the mattress, Draco's knot holding him tied to his Alpha as he was pumped full of cum, again.

Harry hummed a little, questioningly. He was lost in the feel of hot, naked skin slipping against his, smooth and sweat-slick; his arse filled, stretched and full and sore and so good. “What?”

“Your scent,” Draco said, nosing at the nape of Harry's neck. “It’s intoxicating. You’ll keep releasing it until your heat ends. I can't escape it.”

Harry shivered as Draco kissed the back of his neck. “Do you want to?” he asked, throat closing at the idea.

Draco opened his mouth against Harry's nape, biting down gently, his teeth a warning. Harry whimpered and squirmed, and Draco shushed him, soothing gentle hands down his sides. “Of course not, Harry. How many times do I have to tell you? You're mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Harry said, the words sending a thrill of arousal through him, hardening his cock. Draco made a pleased noise and licked his way around to Harry's ear, catching his lobe between his teeth.

“Again.”

“I'm yours,” Harry repeated obediently, breath hitching as Draco pulled his hips up and slid his hand around to close around his erection. “Ah! Draco!”

“Again,” Draco said, unrelenting.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Harry sobbed, trying to thrust forward into Draco's grip, crying out when he pulled against the knot. Draco made a low noise, almost a snarl, and grabbed his hips, pulling him back onto his cock, pushing impossibly deeper, the pressure on Harry’s prostate unbearable.

“ _Hold still_ ,” Draco said, his voice almost unrecognisable in his fury. “You’re _mine_. Your arse is _mine_ , you _won’t_ pull away from me when I’m breeding you, you understand? You'll come when _I_ say you can, and _not before_.”

“Please,” Harry begged, trembling. Sweat was beading on his forehead, his cock so hard it was dribbling pre-cum onto the sheets under him. Draco moved his hand back to Harry's cock, and it was painful, the grip Draco had on him, his skin rubbed almost raw from the countless orgasms his Alpha had wrung out of him, but the pleasure was filling him up again from the inside and burning out the pain. “ _Please_.”

“Say it. Say it and _mean it_.”

Harry moaned. “I do. I am. You _know_.”

“Do I?” Draco bit Harry’s shoulder punishingly. “Didn’t you say you hated me, before I claimed you?”

Harry frowned, bewildered. The memory was distant, hazy, as if it had happened years ago instead of days – or as if it had happened to someone else. “But you _claimed_ me. I _chose_ you. I’m yours, Draco. I’m – ah, I’m _yours_. I’m yours, please, _I’m yours. Please_.”

“Yes,” Draco said, and stroked his hand once up and down Harry's cock. “Come,” he said, and Harry gasped as his balls drew up and his cock jerked, spurting weakly.

“Oh Merlin,” he whimpered, shuddering helplessly.

Draco held him through it, stroking him gently. When Harry started coming down, Draco let go before the pain of his over-sensitive cock got too much. “Good,” Draco was murmuring, “such a good boy for me. Coming for me. Taking my knot. So good.”

Harry sighed a little, relaxing into the bed. Draco lay over him heavily, still tied to him, his cock making those little twitches as it emptied itself into him, and Harry was sated and filled almost beyond what he could bear, and it was perfect. 

“What happens after my heat ends?” he asked, after several long, quiet minutes.

“Nothing happens,” Draco said, turning them on their sides carefully so he could wrap his arms around Harry and hold him close. The knot pulled slightly, but the burn was pleasant, and Harry just closed his eyes and let himself be manhandled. “You stay mine. I fuck you, you take my knot. You submit to me – in _everything_.”

“And when the war starts?” Harry said, because that was why Dumbledore had tried to keep them apart, and there was a terrible, dark fear in him at the thought of Draco asking him to sacrifice himself to Voldemort. Because he would – he would do _anything_ for his Alpha, and the world would burn because of it. He said, “We’re on different sides,” but they weren’t, really, not anymore.

And Draco knew it, too, because he bit down into the dark, painful bruise over Harry's carotid, making Harry whimper softly, and said, “You belong to me, Potter. We _are_ the same side, now. You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Harry agreed. “I belong to you, Draco. I’m yours.”

“Yes, you are,” Draco said. “Mine to fuck. Mine to knot. Mine to breed with as I please… but also mine to _protect_. The Dark Lord won’t lay a _finger_ on you, do you understand?” He was growling softly, and Harry felt a little giddy.

“Okay. But –”

“No buts. I’ll take you away from here – from _all_ of this – before I let _anyone_ hurt you.”

Part of Harry was overwhelmed with the oddest sensation of – _joy_ , he thought. It was _joy_. He was _happy_ , really happy; not just content-with-his-lot happy, not grit-his-teeth-and-bear-it happy, but really, smile-until-his-cheeks-hurt _happy_. No one had ever cared that much about him before. No one, not even Dumbledore.

But another part of him couldn't help but remember there was a _reason_ Dumbledore couldn't remove him from this fight, even if he’d wanted to. 

“There’s a prophecy,” he began, haltingly. The two parts of him were battling it out, now – should he really tell _Draco Malfoy_ , Death Eater (because the skull and snake tattoo on his left arm was kind of hard to miss, naked), about being the Chosen One? But then Draco kissed the side of his neck and splayed a hand possessively over his stomach, and the part of Harry screaming that he _belonged to his Alpha_ , dammit – that _everything_ in him, and about him, belonged to his Alpha – won. Hands down. The rebellious part of him died without a whimper. 

“I’m the only one who can defeat Voldemort,” he said.

“Well, then.” Draco was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not letting you face him alone. So I suppose that means we do it together.”

~*~

Harry could feel his heat winding down. There were longer periods between fucks, more time spent sleeping or cuddling or tucked obediently beneath the covers as Draco fed him the light meals that had begun to appear sometime during the third day. Or maybe they’d been sending the food in right from the start, and Harry just hadn’t noticed. The days had sort of blurred into one long, waking dream. Granted, a very pleasant dream, but one which couldn’t last forever, no matter how much he might want it to.

He was waking up.

“Your task,” he said. Draco was petting his hair idly with one hand and feeding him slices of melon with the other. Harry thought it might be breakfast-time; he could see pastries on the tray, as well. European; someone was spoiling them. 

He suspected Dobby.

“Hm?” Draco’s gaze sharpened on Harry’s face. “What?”

“The Room of Requirement,” Harry said, letting his eyes flick deliberately to Draco’s Mark. “Your task. Are you –?”

Draco slid another piece of melon between Harry’s lips, effectively quieting him. He followed that up with his fingers, pressing in and exploring Harry’s mouth with a proprietary air of ownership that took Harry’s breath away. His cock made a valiant attempt to harden, but he was utterly spent, so he just lay and watched his Alpha and sucked on the long, graceful fingers when he thought Draco wouldn’t mind.

“That’s done with now,” Draco said, at last. His eyes were dark as he stroked over Harry’s tongue. “I won’t let my mother suffer the consequences of my decision, but I won’t betray you to save her, either. I will find another way.”

Harry opened his mouth, and Draco slid his fingers out, patting Harry’s cheek gently before pulling away entirely. 

Harry shook his head. “Why?” he whispered.

Draco frowned, irritated. “Because you’re _mine_ , Potter. Do you still not understand that? An Omega – you can't even _begin_ to comprehend how rare and precious you are. And not only that, but a _true_ bond, not one bought and paid for. Do you know there are only two Alpha-Omega bonds in wizarding Britain right now? Ours, and Dumbledore and Snape’s. And their bond is mere practicality; there is no love there, no lust, no _power_.”

Harry blinked, blinked again, and sat up quickly. “Dumbledore and _Snape_?”

Draco just looked at him. Harry flinched, remembering his Alpha’s order to stay still as he was fed. He hunched his shoulders in apologetically, and Draco put a hand on his chest and pushed down again, gently, insistently. Harry let himself be re-arranged under the covers, warm and cosy, and then Draco straddled his hips, which was very clearly a reward, so he tried not to feel too guilty for disobeying.

“Worst kept secret in Hogwarts,” Draco mused, reaching over for a strawberry and pressing it between Harry’s lips. Harry bit down obediently, relishing the burst of sweetness across his tongue. Not as pleasant as his Alpha’s fingers, but still. Close. “Or, at least, in Slytherin, but really, no one with _eyes_ could fail to see it. Of course, the Dark Lord doesn’t know, or Snape would be dead. My father never had the heart to reveal his duplicity, and no one crosses my father; not even now he's in Azkaban. Not even my Aunt Bella. Severus – has suffered enough.”

“What happened? I mean – Snape said his true mate died.”

Draco looked at him carefully. “You don’t want to know, Harry.”

Harry met the stormy-grey eyes, feeling that tug low in his belly. The desire to obey, to be good, to please his Alpha. But Draco hadn’t forbidden him to ask, so he ignored the feeling and said, “I do, Draco. Please. Snape’s the only other Omega I know. I need to know what happened to him.”

“Even if it hurts you?” Draco said somberly, almost radiating disapproval, and Harry winced.

“Please,” he murmured, pressing closer.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Draco said. “Mind you, nor is Dumbledore’s, and that’s probably the only reason their bond doesn’t self-destruct.” His mouth twisted. “Merlin knows it can’t be a _healthy_ bond. Especially not considering Dumbledore’s first, true bond-mate.”

“Who?” Harry asked, fascinated already.

“Gellert Grindelwald,” Draco said. “And I think we all know how _that_ one went.”

Harry gaped. “ _Grindelwald_? As in, the _Dark Lord_ Grindelwald?”

“Well, obviously it was before he went Dark,” Draco said, and then paused. “Well, maybe not all before. But Dumbledore rejected him because of it, severed their bond, and then sent him to prison. Explains a lot about the man, once you know. The way he’s so afraid of facing who he is – what he’s become. He’s just as corrupted by power as he feared Grindlewald had become, all those years ago, and yet he refuses to admit it to himself, refuses to admit that his machinations and manipulations behind the scenes, bending people and governments and destiny itself to his will, is any different to what Grindelwald wanted. At least the Dark Lord was honest about it.”

Harry frowned slightly. He thought perhaps he should try to defend Dumbledore, but that seemed a little too much like defying his Alpha, so he said instead, “I thought the bond couldn’t be broken.”

Draco shrugged. “Not by you,” he agreed. “Or by the Ministry, or even by the most powerful wizard alive. But an Alpha may _always_ sever a bond if he so chooses.”

Harry swallowed. “Not _our_ –?” he managed, and then his words died out. His throat felt dry, scratchy and hot.

Draco smiled slowly, leaning forward to kiss him gently, and then more fiercely, thrusting his tongue into Harry’s mouth and claiming it for his own. “I will _never_ let you go,” he whispered, and it should have sounded dangerously possessive and threatening and even slightly manic, but Harry just shuddered in relief.

“What about Snape?” he asked, when Draco had slowed his kisses to little ones along his jaw and the line of his throat.

Draco sighed and sat back. “You really want to know?” Harry nodded, giving his Alpha his best pleading look. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Draco reached over for one of the pastries, and tore off a small piece to feed to Harry. “Snape found his Alpha at a very young age. Their preliminary bond formed long before their bodies were ready to consummate it, and they grew up loving each other like brother and sister. She was older than him, and there was a war brewing, and she formed an attachment to someone else – a Beta. Not a bond, but I suppose it was love enough. Severus was devastated, lost. Easy pickings for my father and the other original Death Eaters. And by the time he turned sixteen and his body went into heat, it was too late. His Alpha rejected him, and my father took him in. Hid him from the Dark Lord while he mourned, fucked him through his heats until Severus came up with his suppressant. But then – then Snape made a deal with the devil.”

“Voldemort?”

Draco pinched Harry’s side, hard enough to bruise him, and Harry shut his mouth again. “No. Dumbledore,” Draco said. “And Snape’s true Alpha paid the price. The Dark Lord killed her, and her husband, and all Severus had left was the child that should have been his – a child with his mother’s green eyes and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.”

“A –” Harry’s head spun. “ _Me_?”

Draco brushed Harry's hair off his forehead, running a fingertip over his scar. “Yes,” he said gently. “Lily Potter was Snape’s true mate.”

“I don’t believe you,” Harry said automatically, even as everything he had never really understood about the professor began to slot into place. “You’re lying.”

Draco growled, deep in his chest, and Harry froze in horror, suddenly remembering who he was. Who he was talking to. His _Alpha_.

“I’m sorry, Draco, I'm –” he said quickly, but it was too late. Draco’s eyes were suddenly drowned in black, and he stripped off the bedspread covering Harry in one smooth, efficient motion, pinning Harry’s hands to the bed above his head before he’d even really registered his Alpha had moved.

“Draco –”

“Shut. Up,” Draco said, from between clenched teeth, “unless you want me to gag you as well.”

 _As well as what_? Harry thought, but then there were ropes snaking around his wrists, pulling tight as Draco lashed him wandlessly to the bedposts. And then he was shoving Harry’s legs up and thrusting three fingers into his arse roughly, and it had been at least an hour and a half since their last knotting, and Harry was not quite wet enough or loose enough to handle it.

He cried out in pain, a tear escaping his control and slipping down his face, and Draco eased up slightly, frowning. 

“You’re not producing as much,” he muttered, and Harry wanted to weep with how much he wanted to _apologise_ , to beg his Alpha’s forgiveness. But he couldn’t talk; he couldn’t disobey his Alpha like that, not after accusing him of something so _awful_ , so – 

“Hey,” Draco said roughly, touching Harry’s cheek, and he realised he’d failed _again_ , failed to keep his tears from ruining his Alpha’s enjoyment of his body; failed, failed, _failed_. “No,” Draco said. “No, Harry, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I over-reacted, it’s my fault.” He withdrew his fingers slowly, jaw tightening as Harry gave an involuntary sob of pain. He lay down, covering Harry’s body with his own, and gathered him up in a hug. “It’s my fault,” he said again, “I hurt you, I’m sorry, Harry, please forgive me.”

Harry stilled, confused and worried by the sudden change in temperament. His Alpha was angry with him. He had to _fix_ this, be obedient and submissive and _perfect_. He pressed his face, hard and silent, into Draco's shoulder, hoping desperately that it would be enough.

But Draco just made a soft noise of distress, arms tightening around him. “Not your fault, Harry,” he said. “D’you hear me? _Not your fault_. You're mine, you're _safe_ with me. I won’t hurt you, ever. Tell me you know that.”

Harry swallowed. Permission – even an _order_ – to speak, but how in Merlin’s name was he supposed to _apologise_ for something like this? “I know,” he said tentatively. “I know, but Draco, I should have been _ready_ for you. You shouldn't have to worry about that. I'm yours, and I was disrespectful, and you should have been able to reassert your claim. It’s your _right_ , and I _failed_ you.”

Draco sighed. “Don’t be an idiot, Potter. Your heat’s ending – you can't help that any more than you could help going _into_ heat. I’ll expect you to keep yourself ready for me at all other times – but right now, while you're still in heat, you're _my_ responsibility. Understand?” He pulled back slightly, cupping Harry’s face in his hand and forcing Harry to look at him. His grey eyes were flint-hard, fierce. “You will not _ever_ let me hurt you, Potter. That is an order, and I _will not_ tolerate disobedience.”

Harry swallowed, tears springing to his eyes. “Okay,” he agreed, feeling warmth spread from the top of his head all the way to the tips of his toes. “I love you, Draco.”

He was half-hoping his Alpha wouldn’t hear the whispered words, but Draco just pulled him impossibly closer and said, “I know. You’ll always love me, now. That was never in question. What’s important is that you know _I_ will always love _you_. You _will_ be cherished, Harry. I won’t ever let you feel unloved, or unsafe, or uncared for.”

Harry closed his eyes. It was like Draco could see right into his soul; into the deepest desires of his heart, the ones he kept hidden even from himself. But – “Dumbledore said you can marry outside our bond.”

Draco snarled. “Dumbledore’s a bitter old fool. He rejected his own Omega, and now he’s projecting himself onto _us_. I’ve told you already, Harry – you’re _mine_ , and I will guard you faithfully. _Jealously_.” He nuzzled behind Harry’s ear, calming himself, and then murmured, “Do you know what my father would have done to me if he’d found out I was gay, before this? And now I’ll be celebrated, _envied_. I won’t have to live every day of my life as a lie; you'll give me children, and we’ll be _happy_ together, Harry. I’ll even marry you if that’s what you want, although you have to know a marriage bond is far, far inferior to what we already have.”

“Oh,” Harry said helplessly, and then suddenly he realised they were floating three feet above the bed. He yelped, flinging his arms around Draco’s neck and wrapping his legs tighter around Draco’s waist.

Draco laughed, delighted. “You’re doing that,” he said, kissing Harry’s ear. “You’re even more powerful than you were before, now. Emotions – strong emotions, like happiness – you’ll have to learn control of them all over again, just like your accidental magic as a child.”

Harry couldn’t deny that; he _was_ happy. Happier than he could ever remember being. He held on a little tighter, and thrust his hips up.

Draco growled, flipping them over in the air. “Don’t let us fall,” he warned, and then lifted Harry and guided him down onto his cock, slow and gentle – and then when he realised how slick-wet Harry was, gushing out of him again in readiness for his Alpha's cock, in one smooth, hard thrust.

~*~

Draco didn’t knot with him that time, or even the time after that.

“I want it to be special,” Draco told him, “the last time I knot you.”

Harry had been sprawled face-down on the mattress (no wet spot, because their magic was awesome like that), but he found the energy at that to twist around to look at his Alpha, sudden anxiety blooming in his chest.

“Last time?” he echoed, throat tight. “But – but you _can_ still knot me when I’m not in heat, right? I mean, I’m not always going to be in heat, but it’s your _right_ –”

Draco kissed him, sweet and gentle and commanding, until he was melting into his Alpha’s body, relaxed and quiet. Draco smiled against his mouth. “The heats only happen two or three times a year,” he agreed. “I can’t impregnate you at any other time, but I _can_ still knot you. It’ll hurt more, of course, but that just means I’ll expect you to keep yourself well-stretched and lubed for me. Understand?” Harry nodded, relieved. “I just meant the last time I knot you during your first heat. It should be special, something we can remember when the heat burns away and it’s just us again.” 

Harry looked up at him, smiling. “You want to romance me, Draco?” he teased. “Candles and flowers and music?”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it too, Potter. The bond means we’re compatible, in every way. I _know_ what you want, because it’s what I want, too.”

Harry considered that, feeling warm and loved again. It was a novel feeling; he thought he could get used to it. “Do your worst,” he said.

Holding Harry’s gaze, Draco waved a hand. No wand – neither of them had had to, not since that very first knotting. And suddenly they were somewhere else; a pavilion by the sea, under the deep night sky studded with a thousand stars. Harry gasped and scrambled to his feet, exhaustion forgotten. The sand was warm under his toes, and there was a breeze brushing through his hair. “How did you – it’s impossible to Apparate through Hogwarts’ wards –”

“Maybe it is,” Draco said, leaning back on his elbows lazily, an amused smile playing on his lips at Harry’s awe. “Maybe it isn’t. Alpha-Omega bonds are powerful, and unique; we won’t know our limits until we push them. But I didn’t Apparate us here. Even if it was possible, I wouldn't want to exhaust us both before we even start. No, it’s an illusion – of a real place, of course. The Malfoy holiday home in Spain, in fact, with our own private stretch of beach.” Harry turned to look at him incredulously, and Draco’s smile widened. “Romantic enough for you, sweetheart?”

Harry thought for a moment, and then there was soft, gentle music drifting on the breeze. He smiled. “Now it is. I want to suck you.”

Draco jerked, like he hadn’t been expecting that, his eyes darkening. “Do you,” he said flatly, and Harry dropped to his knees beside him, begging with his eyes. After days – and days – of being taken, of having the frantic itch inside him soothed again and again with his Alpha’s cock, being stretched around his knot, fucked and bred, he wasn't quite so desperate to be filled right now. Soon, yes – he wouldn’t be able to bear it for long, but he wanted to taste his Alpha on his tongue, and that would hold back the tide for a while.

Draco considered him thoughtfully for a moment, and then widened his legs. It was all the invitation Harry needed; he clambered between Draco’s legs, hands already smoothing up the long, slender legs. “Oh,” he said, making a face. “Am I going to get sand –”

“ _Wizarding_ holiday home, Harry,” Draco said patiently, and Harry sighed in relief, settling himself comfortably on his stomach in the sand.

Draco’s cock was already hard, bobbing against his stomach, but the knot was quiescent, just a small lump near the base of his cock. Harry shivered, and then Draco’s hand was in his hair, gently encouraging him forward. He licked tentatively, and the taste was nothing that he’d expected; just warm, clean skin and salt and the tang of pre-come as it dribbled down the side. 

He moaned, opening his mouth to suck Draco inside, and it was incredible, the heavy weight of his Alpha on his tongue, the silk of skin moving over hard muscle, the way Draco’s whole body shuddered as he slid his tongue up and pressed just under the head. He wrapped his hand around the base, felt the knot shift under his palm and start to swell. Draco gave an involuntary thrust at that, but Harry had been expecting it and just moved with him – he might be inexperienced in, well, _everything_ , when it came to sex, but he could hear Draco’s order resounding in his head – _you will not_ ever _let me hurt you_ – and he was determined to please his Alpha.

Judging by Draco’s panting breaths, the way his hands clutched convulsively in Harry’s hair, he thought he was doing a pretty good job of it; sucking hard, keeping hold of the base and stroking firmly in counterpoint, drooling a bit to keep it wet, figuring out just the right way to wrap his lips over his teeth.

His jaw was starting to ache, but every inch of his Alpha was screaming out his enjoyment of what Harry was doing, and there was no way in hell he could stop.

But Draco’s knot was growing, and he grunted and said, “Want inside you, Harry,” and Harry let Draco’s cock slide out of his mouth reluctantly.

“Come here,” Draco said, urging Harry up to kiss him chastely, quickly, and then flipping them over. Harry gazed up at him, aware that his expression was probably bordering on adoration, but it felt right. Draco bent and kissed him again, properly this time, shoving his thighs up and hooking them over his shoulders. Harry shuddered at how _open_ he felt, and suddenly he was squirming desperately, his hole fluttering with need and wet, slick heat.

“Please,” he blurted into Draco’s mouth, and Draco chuckled.

“You want this?” he said, nosing under Harry’s jaw, teasing at his tender pulse point. Just lips, no teeth, and it was enough to drive him _wild_. “Hm? You want me to bite you, relieve some of that heat pouring through your veins? _Force_ you to submit to me?”

Harry threw his head back in a desperate _yes_ , offering himself up the only way he knew how.

But Draco just kissed the deep bruise and lined himself up, pushing in gently. Harry cried out, fingers digging into Draco’s shoulders, the pleasure-pain of it unprecedented. Draco _always_ bit him first; relaxing him, giving him some relief from the burning itch, making him ready. “ _Merlin_ ,” he said on a stuttering breath, fighting to stay on top of the flood of feelings, and then realising that fighting it was just what he _shouldn’t_ be doing. So he let it pull him under instead, and it was a sweeter submission for the lack of Draco’s bite.

“That’s it,” his Alpha praised him, thrusting in carefully, “such a good boy for me, Harry, you’re _incredible_ ,” and Harry sighed and settled, his body thrumming with pleasure as Draco hit that sensitive spot inside him again and again, fucking him slow but steady, and there was sweat pooling on his stomach, beading on his forehead and slick where he was touching Draco’s back, but there was just enough of a cool, fresh sea breeze to keep them from getting overheated. Harry let it flow over his face, closing his eyes as Draco pressed his lips to the hollow of his throat and shoved in one more time, hard, his knot swelling, stretching the walls of Harry’s channel smooth and tight around him, tying them together as he began to come.

“Mm,” Harry said, stilling completely.

“Good boy,” Draco murmured again. “Want me to bite you, or let you come? One or the other.”

Harry didn’t even hesitate. He was thrilled Draco had trusted him to submit without the bite, but he _wanted_ it. It was proof he was owned, proof he was _loved_ ; not just a mark on his skin but a _brand_ , a physical representation of their bond. “Bite me,” he said, and Draco growled, fixing his teeth around Harry’s carotid with an eagerness that told him he’d chosen right – he’d pleased his Alpha, too.

He melted into Draco happily, content to just enjoy being used, being stretched and held tight and pumped full of come, his own cock – not forgotten, exactly, but not necessary for his Alpha’s pleasure.

Until it was, and Draco’s hand wrapped around him and stroked him roughly, his own hips thrusting a little as if he could get his cock just that tiny bit deeper, make his claim just that tiny bit stronger. Harry moaned and stretched up for a kiss, pleading with his mouth open, lips still red and swollen and wet from the earlier kisses. Possibly, Harry thought, his lips had been swollen for _days_ , ever since that first, marathon snog.

Draco indulged him, and Harry shivered and moaned as his Alpha explored his mouth, because he was being knotted and jerked off and kissed under the stars, and he’d been _bitten_ , and this was _all_ an indulgence on Draco’s part, which meant his beloved Alpha was very, very pleased with him. 

Then Draco whispered, “Come,” in his ear, and he barely even registered it before the flood crashed through him and swept him up and up and up, until he was dizzy with the pleasure of it and he fell.

He came to several minutes later with Draco still tied to him and pumping gently, kissing Harry’s eyelids like he was the most precious thing in the world. He didn’t try to open his eyes; just lay there and let himself be taken care of, everything in him blissed out and utterly satisfied.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco wake up from his heat, and must deal with the consequences of their bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this may be triggering for some readers, with the boundaries of consent being very much blurred by the nature of what Harry and Draco are in this fic. Please don't read if this might be upsetting. Everyone else, enjoy! Happy ending ahead!

“Ew,” Harry said, not long later (and a long time later), and the sound of his own voice startled him awake. He sat up quickly, and cried out in pain, every inch of his body protesting. “Oh Merlin, oh Merlin,” he panted, fighting to control his breathing when it hurt to suck in even a partial lungful of air, and he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Harry,” said a familiar (beloved) voice, and there was a hand on his back. It was familiar too, and there was no reason for the hand that belonged to that voice to be _familiar_ on his bare skin, and it almost tipped him into a full-blown screaming panic when the voice continued, “Calm down.”

He relaxed, instantly, and then tensed up all over again when Malfoy (Draco) moved into his line of vision.

The last thing he remembered ( _“I love you,” whispered against sweat-slick skin, and he smiled, drifting off to sleep in a haze of contentment_ ) was DADA – Snape had been explaining something, an assignment –

“Where are we?” he demanded. Dammit, even his _lips_ hurt. “What have you _done_ to me?” There were marks on his chest, stomach, bruises in the shapes of fingers, teeth marks on the inside of his thighs, his neck felt like it had been _mauled_ , and – oh Merlin, his arse was _agony_ , a deep, fierce ache like he’d been torn up and spat out by a dragon, only this was internal, _inside him_ – “Did you _rape_ me?” he said, fury choking him, and he tried to lunge forward but his body was in too much pain, too exhausted to do anything but twitch futilely towards the other boy.

Draco’s eyebrows drew together into a frown, and Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wanted to apologise, but that was ridiculous. Malfoy was quite clearly in better shape than he was, not to mention _naked_ – it was a reasonable assumption. Except... except he didn’t _feel_ like he thought he should; didn’t feel violated, or dirty, despite what was clearly _semen_ drying on his inner thighs.

He looked up at Malfoy again, and this time his eyes were drawn to the ugly black tattoo on his left forearm. He started backwards, wincing at the pain but his whole mind focused on _I was right_ , and _oh_ fuck, _I was right_. “You’re a Death Eater,” he said, horrified and triumphant. 

Draco was silent. Harry frowned and shook his head. “ _Well_?” he pressed, impatient.

But Draco just watched him, and the weight of that frown began to burn some of the gauze protecting Harry’s memories away. He took a shuddering breath; curled into himself. _Omega_ , Madam Pomfrey explained. _Inability to give true consent_ , Dumbledore said. _Literally and legally belong to that person for the rest of your life_.

“It _was_ rape,” Harry said, fighting back a sob. “Oh Merlin, _no_.” He was bonded to a Death Eater; bonded to a smug, self-righteous _prick_ who hated him and would make the rest of his life a living hell.

“Stop it,” Malfoy said, and the bed dipped. Harry flinched, and Draco paused with his hand outstretched. “It’s not like that, Harry.”

“No?” Harry said, directing a furious look at the boy who owned him, body and soul. “I was _out of my mind_. I wasn’t even _here_. You think I’d have chosen _you_ if I’d been thinking clearly at _all_?”

Draco’s face closed down. “You’re mine,” he said stiffly, and again Harry felt that uncomfortable need to apologise, to take the hurtful words back, no matter the truth to them. (Not true, not completely). He had a sudden, vivid flash of blurting out a desperate apology, of Draco binding his wrists to the bed-head in punishment, and he scowled. 

“So I suppose that means you want me to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” he snarled.

Malfoy’s jaw worked. “It might be a start.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you got the wrong end of the deal,” Harry said. “Maybe you should’ve thought about what you were doing before you bound your _enemy_ to you. Or maybe,” a sick burn in the back of his throat as a thought occurred to him, “you _did_. Maybe you’re planning on giving me up to Voldemort.”

Draco flinched, his fingers curling. “Don’t say his name,” he snapped.

“Why? Are you scared, Mal –” The name dried up in his mouth, and he fought to continue, but there was something far more powerful stopping him, and he was _panting_ with anger now. “Seriously? I seriously can’t call you by your fucking _name_ because of your fucking _order_?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have that kind of power,” he said. “That’s _you_ – the part of you you’re fighting tooth and nail right now. The part of you that _remembers_ , and loves me, and would do anything for me. The part of you that _wants_ to obey me.”

“There’s no part of me that wants to _obey_ you,” Harry spat. “And _love_ –?” He almost laughed, but the look in Malfoy’s eyes stopped him. His hands clenched into fists. “How can you want this?” he demanded instead. “You had the opportunity to back out – when Snape got me out of there, you didn’t have to come after me, to the infirmary. You _chose_ this. Was it revenge? Or are you really going to hand me over to your master?”

Draco sighed. “No,” he said. “You’re mine, Harry, whether you like it or not, and I take care of what’s mine.”

Before Harry could even begin to try to get his head around _that_ , the door opened – one Harry hadn’t even noticed (or had forgotten, days or an eternity ago) – and Dumbledore entered, Snape hovering behind him awkwardly. Harry only had a moment to realise the cloying terror in his chest was directly related to the Headmaster’s presence before Draco was between them, growling deep in his chest. He seized a blanket and wrapped it quickly around Harry’s shoulders, bundling him up in it until he was completely covered. And then he flung another blanket carelessly around his own waist, gathered Harry up in his arms, and held him tightly, pressing Harry’s face into his shoulder.

Harry relaxed despite himself, the shivering, terrible fear dissipating slightly, but Draco was still as tense as a centaur whose territory was being invaded. “You won’t take him from me,” he said, almost snapping the words out, whip-sharp and desperate. “He’s _mine_ , I’ve bitten him, the law is _absolute_.”

“I am not disputing your claim, Mr Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, gently. “I simply want to talk. I’m sure you understand there is a great deal to discuss. Your mother, for instance.”

Draco tensed even further. “What _about_ my mother?”

Snape cleared his throat softly. “I’ve sent a message to the Dark Lord, explaining the situation – that you have bonded to Harry Potter, and that Dumbledore and his Order intend to attempt a rescue mission for Narcissa tonight.” Harry’s breath caught, but Malfoy just smoothed a hand down his back, his eyes alert but trusting as they rested on the DADA professor. “The Dark Lord knows the most secure room in Malfoy Manor is –”

“My mother’s bedchambers.” Draco relaxed slightly, let Harry lift his head to look at him. There was a small smile on his lips as he met Harry’s questioning gaze. “It’s very true,” he explained. “Her rooms are impenetrable, and with guards outside – impossible to get to her. Except – there is _one_ way; a family secret. Severus knows, of course, but the Dark Lord will have no cause to suspect that. He’ll believe it was me.”

Harry shook his head, bewildered. “You’re changing sides?”

Draco sighed. “Not changing sides, Harry. Simply – realigning my priorities. _You_ are my priority now, and that means I have to keep you safe.”

( _“I won’t betray you to save her. I’ll find another way.”_ )

“Oh.”

Snape left the room, closing the door behind him quietly, and Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry tried to crane his head back to see the Headmaster, but Draco put a hand on his neck, pressing him down again. Harry scowled; the rush of (mostly) irrational terror had subsided, and he wanted _out_. “Mal – _Draco_ ,” he hissed.

Draco’s hands curled into fists in Harry’s blanket, but he let him shuffle a few inches away on the bed – enough, at least, that they weren’t touching at all except for the possessive hands still holding Harry’s blanket, keeping it closed around him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat softly. “How are you feeling, my boy?”

“He’s not yours anymore,” Draco snapped instantly, and Harry waited for the surge of annoyance and anger at the presumption of ownership. It didn’t come. He frowned.

“I’m okay, sir,” he said, trying to sound casual. He thought he mostly succeeded, but Dumbledore’s shrewd blue eyes had always seen right through him, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Draco stiffened again. Dumbledore’s eyes flicked between them, and he waited a moment before replying carefully, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry. I think we all recognise the difficulty this situation has put us in, but now that Mr Malfoy has declared his intention to – cross over, as it were, and fight for the Light –”

Draco’s lip curled, and he said, “If you were actually _listening_ to what should have been _private_ , intimate conversations between my _claimed_ Omega and I, _during his heat_ –” Dumbledore looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment, and Harry wondered if there was a law about that, as well, “not to mention a mere thirty seconds ago, you should know I said no such thing. I will not allow you to make me one of your pawns. I will fight _with_ Harry. Protect him, with my life if necessary, and make _damned_ sure he walks away from this war alive and unhurt. And that is all.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said. He stroked his long, white beard, and sighed. “I was afraid of that. I had intended for this to all play out very differently – but fate, it seems, has changed our path.” He was silent for a long moment, clearly weighing his words carefully. 

“Unfortunately, Mr Malfoy,” he continued, “there are a few immutable facts – things that _must_ happen in order to win the war, or I am afraid _no one_ will walk away from this alive and unhurt. Harry told you of the prophecy – the interpretation he gave you is one I have allowed him to believe, and one that I myself have come to believe in as well. That he will defeat Lord Voldemort. It was – not always the _only_ interpretation, however. I once believed – before his encounter with Voldemort in the graveyard at the end of the Triwizard Tournament – that it would be enough that he die at Voldemort’s hand. That others might finish destroying the Horcruxes, and strike the killing blow.”

Harry stared at the old wizard, his friend and mentor, and tried not to feel betrayed. Suddenly he didn’t mind the arm Draco slid around his waist; his whole world was tilting on its axis, and the contact grounded him, a little.

“I’m sorry, my boy,” Dumbledore said, and then sighed again when Draco growled dangerously, pulling Harry closer. “Harry, then,” he conceded. “You see, something happened the night you were given that scar, Harry; something more than Voldemort simply making you ‘his equal’. You already know some of it – the connection you have with him, the ability to see into each others’ minds and memories, the gifts you inherited.” Harry snorted; Draco looked intrigued and somewhat repulsed. “But there is a _reason_ for that connection – a reason Voldemort does not yet suspect, but one which I have known for some time. I believe his soul had become unstable from being split again and again, and when he murdered your mother that night, Harry, his soul split again, accidentally. With no direction, no spell to push it into an inanimate object, it latched onto – well, the only _living_ thing left in that room.”

Harry's heartbeat was suddenly thundering in his ears. 

“I’m a Horcrux,” he said, and Dumbledore nodded silently.

“That’s ridiculous,” Draco said flatly. “Horcruxes are _evil_ ; they corrupt even the non-sentient things they possess. A human host – just the _idea_ of – it’s _sick_.”

Harry swallowed. Dumbledore looked at Malfoy disapprovingly over his half-moon glasses. 

“Harry is an exceptional young man, Mr Malfoy,” he said, “a pure heart, one who has survived a great deal more than he should have, but still pure, still uncorrupted. Still capable of _love_. And it is that which will make his sacrifice possible.”

“Sacrifice?” Harry wasn’t sure which one of them had said it; his mouth felt dry, his throat scratchy and sore. He was _scared_ , suddenly.

Dumbledore sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you so soon. In fact – but of course there is never a _right_ time to tell someone something like this. Harry, my dear boy, for Voldemort to die, _all_ his Horcruxes must be destroyed. You know that. And unfortunately, in order to destroy the Horcrux inside you –”

“ _I_ have to die.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so.”

“Dragon dung,” Draco said, and Dumbledore looked startled. Harry twisted to look at his – at _Malfoy_.

“What?” he said.

Draco firmed his jaw, locked his eyes on Dumbledore, and put a gentle hand on Harry’s chest. “I _said_ , dragon dung. You're _mine_ , Harry. I don't care what destiny Dumbledore and a thrice-damned prophecy have mapped out for you – I _will not_ let you die.”

“Mr Malfoy –”

“Shut up!” Draco said, and to Harry's surprise, the Headmaster closed his mouth and took a step back, surprised and wary. 

“Look at me,” Draco said, and Harry realised that was directed at him. He met the hard grey eyes; had a flash-memory of “ _you will not_ ever _let me hurt you_ ”, and then fire was ripping into him, tearing him right down the middle as a hand reached into his _soul_ and straight for a part of him he'd never quite noticed – always there but on the edge of his consciousness, turning anger into fury, dislike into hatred, all the ugly emotions, bitterness and resentment and loathing, multiplied a thousand times by this _thing_ that was clinging to his soul like a leech – and Draco got a hand around its neck and _pulled_.

Pain exploded behind Harry’s eyes, white-hot and scorching as the Horcrux dug its strong, deformed little fingers into his soul and held on even tighter. 

He screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

“Harry,” said a voice, and he opened his eyes. 

The abrupt cessation of pain was a shock, disorienting him, and he swung around, taking in the Quidditch pitch under a bright blue sky. It was warm and sunny, and he caught a flash of the golden Snitch high above them.

“How’d we get here?” he said, blinking, confused, and Draco smiled.

“We’re still in the infirmary. I just took you away, into a safe place in your mind, where the Horcrux can’t hurt you.” He tilted his head up, closing his eyes, and Harry’s breath caught, a little, at the way the sun glinted off the white-blond hair. “Figures it’d be Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts is my home,” Harry retorted defensively, feeling exposed and suddenly very vulnerable. This was his _mind_ , and Draco Malfoy was in it, _judging_ it. But Draco just opened his eyes and smiled at him again.

“I like it. But I’m busy; I have to go. You –” He raised a hand to Harry’s cheek, and somehow Harry couldn’t bring himself to move away from the touch. “You _stay here_ , understand? I’ll come and get you when it’s all over, but I – obviously I’ve never done anything like this before, and it’ll lash out at anything, any _one_ , within reach. You’re safe here, but it’ll hurt you if you come out too soon. I’ll come and get you, okay? Stay _here_.”

“What about you?” Harry said, frowning. “Won’t it try to hurt you?”

Draco just looked at him. “I know you think I’m selfish, and a coward,” he said slowly, “and I don’t blame you. Before this year – I had no idea what real life was. I was a spoiled little brat, and I hated that you rejected my offer of friendship back in first year, and I thought that being a Death Eater would be exciting, a way to get back at you. I was wrong. I’m going to make it up to you.” He hesitated, and then said in a rush, “I love you. I know you don’t remember your heat properly, but I do, and if this goes wrong – I want you to at least remember that.”

And then he was gone.

~*~

Harry stayed on the Quidditch pitch for what felt like most of the afternoon. He figured out that, if he concentrated, he could watch his memories, like a Pensieve but better, because everything was fresh and real but just slightly distant, opening up in front of him like a peephole to another time and place. He was safe here, in this little part of his mind, and he watched whole replays of games – the first time he caught the Snitch, the first time he beat Malfoy (and parts of his memory he hadn’t quite seen the first time around, like the way Draco’s eyes had followed him, longingly, and the way Lucius Malfoy’s hand had come down so heavily on Draco’s shoulder, and how the twelve-year-old had winced and ducked his head and swore to do better, be faster).

He got bored, after a while, and wandered up to the castle instead. He didn’t know where he was going until he was actually standing in the infirmary, his hand on the door to the quarantine room.

He took a deep breath, wondering if he actually wanted to do this. But he’d never backed down from a fight before, and he didn’t even really remember what he was fighting. He needed to know. 

So he pushed open the door, and Harry looked up at him from the bed, startled.

Harry stopped in the doorway, eyes widening. This wasn’t a memory; it was far too real, his own face staring back at him, flushed and happy and relaxed, but definitely him. “Who are you?”

The other Harry frowned, the aura of happiness around him fading slightly. “I’m _supposed_ to be you,” he said, distinctly unimpressed. “But you cut me off; shut me in here.”

“You remember the heat,” Harry said, suddenly understanding. 

The other Harry gave him a ‘duh’ look. “You have to let me reintegrate with you. You can’t just leave me here. I want my Alpha.”

Harry took an involuntary step back. “No,” he said, throat closing in a sudden panic. “ _No_. I just wanted to – I just wanted to _understand_ , that’s all. Look at the memories. I don’t want to be _you_ again. I was _gone_ , all the parts of me that _matter_ –”

“All the parts that matter are here now,” the other Harry said firmly. “And you won’t lose them again. You’ll just _remember_.” 

Harry shook his head. “I’m not becoming that – that _half_ -person again. I’m not _ever_ letting you take control of me again.”

“It’s not like that,” the other Harry said, frustrated. “I’m still _you_ – I’m just the part of you that loves your Alpha. Yes, the heat buried – everything that might have interfered with the bonding, but it was still _you_. You’ve just locked up those memories and feelings created during your heat. That’s what I am. I won’t _become_ you when you let me go, just _add_ to you. You’ll get to feel what I feel, remember what I remember – but it won’t be _all_ you feel or remember. I promise.”

Harry slid down the doorframe, hugging his knees to his chest. “I don’t want to lose myself,” he whispered. “My freedom, my _free will_. I don’t want to be his. It’s not fair.”

The other Harry scrambled off the bed. “Let me show you,” he coaxed. “You’ll see. You think the worst of him now, but you don’t know how much you’ve _given_ him. The freedom to be himself, the ability to have children without compromising who he is –”

 _Children_. “Oh Merlin,” Harry moaned. He remembered Dumbledore telling him the Wild Magic had given them this gift so they could _procreate_. Why the hell hadn’t he run screaming right then and there?

“You were in heat,” the other Harry said kindly, and Harry wondered irritably why his other self sounded so much like Hermione. “It’s what you _wanted_ , on a very physical, biological level. You couldn’t help it.”

“Well, I can help it now,” Harry said, scowling. “And I’m not going to let Draco bloody Malfoy run my _life_ because of some freak act of nature or Wild Magic or who the hell cares –”

“It is your _duty_ to submit,” his counterpart snapped, green eyes flashing, and Harry shrank back, thinking in alarm that he really was kind of terrifying when he was angry. The other Harry softened. “Look, he _loves_ you, Harry – you heard him. He’s fighting a battle for your _soul_ right now.”

“See – no, this,” Harry pointed a finger accusingly at his other self, “ _this_ is what I’m talking about! Draco doesn’t _love_ me, and you – I – _really_ don’t love him. We’ve been _enemies_ our whole lives. Our feelings can’t just – just _change_ between one day and the next, no matter how – how good the – you know, was.”

“Sex?” the other Harry said, amused. “You’re right, it was _very_ good. Sure you don’t want to remember your first time?”

“My first time being _raped_?” Harry said incredulously. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

His counterpart sighed. “It wasn’t rape, Harry. You’re an Omega. He’s your mate. You're bonded.”

“And that's supposed to make this _right_?” Harry said incredulously. “I never asked to be bonded to that prat! _He_ chose this – I never got a choice!”

“I know,” the other Harry said, gently. “It’s not fair. Nothing’s ever fair for us. But we take the crap life shoves at us, and we come out _stronger_. You’re not in heat anymore, Harry. _You’re_ in control. You’ll remember loving Draco, but you’ll also remember _not_ loving him. And you have a choice now. He’s made his already. He’s put his heart in your hands – his _life_ , even, by changing sides.”

Harry set his jaw. “I don't care. I won't be his bitch. I _won’t_.”

“He’s your _Alpha_ ,” the other Harry said, just as stubbornly. “Whether or not you remember your first heat, he’s claimed you, he _owns_ you. And you can make you _and_ Draco bitter and unhappy by refusing to accept that, or you can let me reintegrate with you. You won’t _be_ me, I swear on our parents’ graves. Memories and feelings, Harry, that’s _all_. I’m not the Omega – _you_ are. Letting me in won’t force you into anything. You won’t lose your free will. You’ll simply remember how wonderful it feels to be in love, and cared for and protected, and you’ll be free to choose – knowing what I know, and knowing what _you_ know – whether you want to try to build that with him, for real.”

Harry deflated. “That’s all? I can still choose? I’ll be myself?”

“Yes,” the other Harry said. “Your options might be more limited now, but I think that’s a good thing. You never really _did_ know what you wanted out of life. I think you always thought you’d end up dead before you hit twenty and you wouldn’t _have_ to choose – even before Dumbledore told you about the Horcrux. And I think, if you _had_ survived, you would have done what was expected of you and married Ginny and gone on to become an Auror with a white-picket fence and two point five children. You would have been unhappy and lost, your whole life, never admitting that what you _really_ needed was to _belong_ to someone – someone who loves you deeply, passionately, _possessively_ , who won’t take your crap, who won’t worship the pedestal they put the Boy Who Lived on, but who sees you for _you_. And who will always, always be there for you, putting your needs above his for the rest of your life.”

Harry stared at him, aware that he was trembling, but not sure how to stop.

“How do you –”

“I _am_ you,” the other Harry said. “Of course I know.”

Harry dropped his head into his hands. “And you think _Malfoy_ can give me all that?”

“I _know_ he can,” his counterpart said, resting a tentative hand on Harry’s arm. Harry didn’t jerk away, and his other self gripped his arm more firmly, confident now. “And I’m going to show you.”

~*~

“HARRY!”

The door to the Gryffindor common room burst open, and the memory Harry had been watching – talking to Sirius’ head in the fireplace – faded. He turned with tears in his eyes, but a smile on his face. “Draco.” And then, when he registered what he was seeing, “ _Draco_.”

Malfoy was _ravaged_ , his robes torn and dripping blood onto the floor, his face striped with three deep wounds that looked like _claw_ marks, his eyes blotchy and red, tear-tracks through the blood on his cheeks. One of his arms was mangled, and he was holding it against his chest in an odd position. Harry started forward, but then Draco was in front of him, between one moment and the next, cupping Harry’s face with his one, good hand.

His face was twisted with pain, but his eyes were clear – and furious. “I told you to _stay put_!” he hissed, and Harry winced as he saw the broken, bloody teeth. “I _told_ you –” His breath hitched. “It said – it said it was going to _destroy_ you, and I didn’t have the energy to put up any more barriers to protect you, I was afraid it wouldn’t be _enough_ , and it was _laughing_ – I _killed_ it, I tore it up and threw it out of your body, and then I went back to the Quidditch pitch, and you _weren’t there_ –”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I’m okay.”

Draco gave a low, broken sob, and collapsed, and Harry caught him. Draco was dead weight in his arms, and his heart skipped a beat as he realised the other boy was unconscious, head lolling back dangerously. Harry crossed quickly over to the couch nearest the fire, laying Draco’s damaged body (soul?) down carefully. “Merlin,” Harry whispered, going to his knees. 

The injuries were far worse up close; he was pretty sure Malfoy’s left leg was crushed, and his chest looked odd – like half his ribcage had caved in. Draco’s breath stuttered, caught, and then stopped, and Harry’s jaw clenched. 

“Fuck, no,” he said, and laid a hand in the air over Draco, and _pushed_.

Draco sat up with a gasp. “ _What_ –”

“This is _my_ mind,” Harry told him fiercely. “And you’re _my_ mate. You think I’m just going to stand back and let you sacrifice yourself for me? Let you _die_?”

Malfoy stared at him, wide-eyed, and then down at himself. He was completely healed; even his robes were pristine again, not a drop of blood in sight. “Oh,” he said, and then laughed. “Salazar’s purple panties, you’re _powerful_.”

“We’re powerful,” Harry corrected him, thinking of the Horcrux Draco had somehow, singlehandedly, destroyed – all the while keeping Harry safe and protected and unaware. He wondered what Dumbledore’s reaction would be to that; whether this would change the ‘path’ he’d laid out for them to win the war.

He decided he didn’t much care right now.

“Yes,” Draco agreed, and then he frowned. “You were gone.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Harry said, and Draco swung his legs over the side of the couch, one on either side of Harry. His eyes were dark, and Harry swallowed. Part of him wanted to push to his feet, back away, get outside Draco’s reach, but his other self had been right. Draco had fought a Horcrux for him, and maybe – maybe he hadn’t been in his right mind to give consent to Draco claiming him, but maybe that was for the best. If he’d waited… if he’d tried to choose without that feeling of right and wrong to guide him, without knowing what he knew now – _“You will be cherished, Harry. I won’t ever let you feel unloved, or unsafe, or uncared for”_ – he would never have chosen Malfoy. And he would have missed out on everything Draco, and their bond, had to offer.

“You remember,” Draco said, touching his face.

“Yes,” Harry said.

“And you’re mine?” It was a question, hesitant and unsure, and Harry smiled.

“Yes. I’m yours. And you,” he said, stretching up for a kiss, “are mine.”

Draco shuddered in relief. “I want – I want to make love to you,” he said, quietly, his voice rough. “I want to bite you, and knot you, and know it’s not just the heat making you submit – it’s _you_. Choosing me.”

Harry closed his eyes. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But he remembered – _“I love you”, whispered under a thousand stars_ , and _“I won’t ever let you go”_ – and he nodded. Draco was his Alpha; he’d taken care of Harry through a heat that could have destroyed him, and saved Harry’s life – his _soul_ – by destroying that Horcrux, and he'd promised to fight with him against Voldemort in the coming war. 

It was only right that Harry make an effort in return; give Draco the chance to prove that his love and the life he wanted for them could be something Harry wanted, too.

“Wake up,” he whispered, and they opened their eyes. They were still in the quarantine room, but the door was closed again, and the room was quiet. The viewing chamber wall was opaque, but Harry knew there was someone in there, watching out for them. Not just someone – Snape.

“Thank you,” he said to the wall, because the other Omega had saved his life just as much as Draco had. And then he waved his hand apologetically, and said, “No prying eyes – or ears – this time.”

Draco rolled up onto his knees, straddling Harry’s waist. His eyes were bright. 

“Mine,” he said, bending to kiss him, and Harry opened up for him, smiling as he heard _I love you_.


End file.
